Class of 1983: A Young Adult Time Travel Romance

by Victoria Maxwell

  “That's a side-effect I’m afraid. I'll get you some pain killers.”

  “Side-effect?”

  “Of time travel.”

  “Oh sure.” The pain began to spread.

  Janet returned with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. Peggy took two.

  “You can hang onto those, but don't take too many.”

  Peggy nodded and took two. The water tasted different here. Fresher.

  “Try not to worry too much about messing things up,” Janet said, lighting a cigarette and sitting back down on the chair opposite Peggy. “It will ease the pain a little”.

  “Messing things up?” Peggy asked, trying not to be grossed out by the cigarette smoke curling towards her.

  “You know, like creating time travel paradoxes, destroying the universe, stuff like that.”

  Peggy's mouth dropped open. “Am I going to create a paradox just by being here?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “What if I run into my parents or something?”

  “Are your parents here?”

  Peggy thought. “No, they didn't move here until just before I was born. They wanted to get out of the cities to raise me. Although all they ever did when I was growing up was travel to the cities.”

  “So that’s one less thing to worry about, great.”

  “What if I do mess everything up?” Peggy was always messing things up but messing up the whole future of mankind was a pretty big burden.

  “There's two schools of thought,” said Janet inhaling on her cigarette and then blowing smoke into the air, making Peggy cough. “One, is that everything is predetermined. It doesn't matter what you do at any time because everything happens according to some big destined divine plan.”

  “And what's the other option?”

  “You choose your own destiny,” said Janet.

  “So, which one is right?”

  Janet shrugged. “No one knows”.

  “Great. So, I could mess up everything.”

  “I've been here a while, and nothing seems to have changed. It sounds kind of crazy, but I feel like I was always meant to come here.” Janet stubbed out the cigarette in a dolphin shaped ashtray on the table and stood up.

  Even though she'd only been in 1983 for less than a day, Peggy thought she knew exactly what Janet meant.

  “Are you ready for your first day?” Janet asked.

  “Are you seriously making me go to school on my first day in the eighties?” Peggy took the last sip of coffee and put the mug back on the table.

  “I'm your teacher, so yes.”

  “You're not really my teacher.”

  “I really am Peg, and I will be your teacher for the rest of the year if you decide to stay.”

  Stay.

  Stay?

  “Stay today, see how you like it. You can go back any time but don't forget time is still ticking in the present, your present.”

  “Huh?” Peggy had zoned out and was watching an advertisement for Kentucky Fried Chicken and missed most of what Janet had just said.

  “This is important Peggy,” Janet said. “You can't ignore the rules of time travel or else you are going to find yourself in trouble. Time doesn't stop moving in the future when you're in the past.”

  “Yeah, yeah I get it. The clock in San Dimas is always running,” Peggy said.

  Janet’s clutched her heart. “What did you just say?”

  “I said the clock in San Dimas is always running. It’s from a movie. You probably haven't heard of it yet.”

  “I know what it’s from.” Janet reached for the pain killers and took two herself.

  “What is it?” Peggy asked.

  Janet shook her head, her spiked hair so hair-sprayed it was not even close to moving. She looked close to tears.

  “Janet,” Peggy got up and put her arm awkwardly around her teacher who was trembling slightly.

  “No one has...”

  “No one has what?”

  “No one has seen that movie yet,” said Janet.

  “What?”

  “Bill and Ted. It's not out yet.”

  Peggy laughed. “I know!”

  “I saw it at the movies with friends,” Janet said, her eyes glazing over.

  “How did you see it at the movies?”

  “Peggy, I'm from the nineties. I’m not from here either.” Janet put out her cigarette. “No one knows about me here, Peg.”

  “About where you’re from?”

  “About when I'm from.”

  “Well, so now you have me,” Peggy said shrugging and giving her teacher a coffee breath smile.

  Janet took a deep breath, composing herself quickly. She picked herself and the coffee cups up and returned instantly to her normal self. “Right, so go get ready for school.”

  Twelve

  Home Room

  “My niece, who is from Canada,” Janet improvised, “has been through a lot in these recent days and I would really appreciate if you could put her in both my home room and English class.”

  Peggy stood quietly chewing on the inside of her mouth, catching the sweet taste of her lip gloss. Her pink gloss was the only make-up she had with her and so the rest of her face was totally bare because Janet's make-up was the wrong color for her. She didn't like going out without make-up on and she didn't like lying. She'd just let Janet do this part and be vague about the details.

  The grey-haired school receptionist looked up at Peggy suspiciously through her super thick glasses that made her look like a giant bug. She handed over some papers, had Janet sign a form, and it was done.

  “She doesn't want to see my ID or anything?” asked Peggy as they walked towards class, students moving out of their way as they went. That had never happened to Peggy before. She guessed having a faculty escort was useful.

  “What for? I told her who you were,” Janet replied. “And anyway, what exactly would your ID say on it? You haven't even been born yet.”

  Peggy shrugged. “Everyone is pretty security conscious these days. People are kind of freaked out about knowing who everyone is and where they are all the time.”

  “Like in 1984?” asked Janet looking very concerned.

  “I thought it was 1983?” asked Peggy.

  “But you're saying the future is like 1984, and I thought the nineties were getting bad. What happened?”

  “I've never been to 1984, I don't know what happened.”

  “1984, the book Peggy, what am I teaching you in English in the future?” Janet opened the classroom door and ushered her in.

  “Oh right,” Peggy shook her head. “We're doing creative writing right now. Funnily enough, I'm meant to be researching 1983 for an assignment you gave me.”

  “Well I'll be,” said Janet dropping her bags onto her large desk and standing limply.

  “What now?”

  “I sent you here.” Her face paled.

  “How could you send me here?”

  Janet walked back to the door and pulled it shut.

  “I guess you did,” Peggy shrugged. “I talked to you when I first saw the book. You warned me about...”

  “Stop,” Janet demanded perching on her desk as Peggy flopped down in a seat in the front row. “You really can't tell me anything.”

  “Maybe I'm meant to tell you stuff.”

  “Let's not even go there.” Janet looked up at the clock above her desk. “It's nearly nine, you don't want to be sitting in the front row when the bell goes.”

  Peggy stood up just in time as a couple of nerds wearing thick black frames and their shirts done up to the top buttons sat down in front. In the eighties, the nerds looked like cool hipsters. Like a-bit-less-cool versions of Jack.

  She walked past the pre-hipster nerds and headed for her usual seat - the one up the back next to Jack. Jack. Jack would be furious at her for disappearing. Jack would be worried sick. Jack would not be here to keep her safe today.

  She dropped the notebooks Janet had given her on the desk and
sat down, smoothing out her skirt beneath her. As other girls began to file in, she became aware of how different her uniform was. She felt like that kid who couldn't afford the proper school uniform and had to buy cheap generic shirts second hand.

  Life began to move in slow motion as he walked in, holding his notebooks casually under his arm. His shirt was tucked in loosely and he wore a leather belt through the loops of his school pants. Peggy blushed as she realized she had spent far too long looking at that part of him.

  “Morning Mr. Ruthven, you're here early.” Janet said.

  He looked at his watch and then at the clock above him. He threw his books on a desk by the window as the bell went and a cacophony of other students burst through the door.

  The gorgeous blonde from the record store strutted straight towards him. Her hair was so fake blonde, a golden yellow color, but it suited her creamy make-up caked complexion. She kissed his cheek with her dark red lips before taking the seat next to him. He looked slightly less bored by her presence but not much. She began talking at him as he opened up his notebook and looked out the window, half listening, half ignoring her.

  A stunning redhead eyed Peggy up and down suspiciously and then plonked herself into Jack's seat beside her. Peggy opened her mouth to tell the girl that it was Jack's seat and stopped herself. Jack wouldn't be coming today.

  “Good morning class,” Janet began as the class became quiet. “I want you all to welcome a new student this morning, Peggy Martin!” She waved her hand as if she was presenting a lounge suite on The Price is Right.

  Peggy looked up as everyone turned to stare at her. She raised her hand as if to say “hello” and felt her stomach lurch. She hated being the center of attention. She kept her hand up and gave a sort of wave.

  “Peggy, do you want to introduce yourself?”

  Peggy shook her head.

  “Come up the front and tell us a bit about your interests,” suggested Janet.

  Peggy gave her a deer in headlights look but Janet started clapping. A few nerds up front clapped politely and so she made her way slowly to the front of the room. She took a deep breath and turned around feeling nervous and clammy.

  Looking out at the sea of unfamiliar and mostly unfriendly faces, she glanced over to him. He looked at her as if he was actually interested in what she had to say. She felt her stomach flip and she looked down at her feet.

  “Peggy?” prompted Janet. “Tell us about yourself, what do you do for fun?”

  “Uh, Hi. I'm Peggy,” she said with an awkward wave of her hand. She liked saying that, that her name was Peggy. “I like listening to records I guess...”

  “Who doesn't?” scoffed a girl with messy black hair and heavy black eyeliner. She was kind of terrifying.

  Peggy swallowed. “I like shopping at secondhand shops for retro stuff...”

  “Like stuff from the fifties?” asked a boy with frizzy hair in thick aviator glasses. He smiled at her and she felt a little better.

  “Yeah sure, like stuff from the fifties.” Peggy shrugged, attempting to smile back at him. She guessed her statement didn't really make sense if you were living in retro.

  “What else?” Janet urged.

  Peggy tried to think of something else to say but she had nothing. She had no real interests. Movies, music, books, nothing that made her that unique. Except, she guessed, that she was a time traveler. She just stood there trying not to look at him or anyone. Had she already ruined everything? She squinted as if they were all about to throw cream pies at her.

  “Peggy is my niece. She's from Canada.” A few aaahs and ooohs came from the crowd in understanding. “She's been through a difficult time and it would be really great if you could show her around today.”

  The nerds looked up at her grinning, clearly eager to show her around.

  “Thanks Peggy, you can sit down now,” said Janet.

  Peggy let out a breath, walked back to her seat and zoned out as Janet did roll call.

  “Peggy?”

  She didn't realize it was her.

  “Peggy?” Janet asked again looking straight at her.

  “Present.” It was the first time she had been called something other than Magz or Margaret during roll call. It was a delight to her ears. It felt like coming home. A weight had been lifted. She was Peggy now. Peggy Martin. She was always destined to be Peggy Martin. She was sure of it.

  “Sammy Ruthven?”

  Peggy felt the fine hairs on her arms fluff up.

  “Present.”

  Peggy knew exactly who he was. He was the boy from the door, the boy with the hair and the eyes. The boy with the smirk. The boy from the book. The boy who'd been kissed by the prettiest blonde in the room.

  If Sammy Ruthven was an archer and her heart a bullseye he should be in the Olympics. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She threw her head up closing her eyes, wondering how long it would be until she woke up from this dream, or how long it would be until she would have a conversation with him, how long it would be until she kissed him. How long it would be until...

  Stop! She shouted at her brain. He clearly had a girlfriend. Not that a guy like Sammy Ruthven would even consider Peggy to be in the same league as his movie star girlfriend. She wasn't cool enough to ever date someone like Sammy Ruthven. Forget him, it's stupid, she told herself. She didn't even have any make-up on.

  She concentrated on the daily messages but could not at all repeat any of them back to anyone. Just days ago, she was looking at this boy's picture in a dusty old yearbook, having a crush on him from thirty-three years away, and now she was here. He was here. He was just there. He was right there.

  She began to giggle at the craziness of it all. The redhead sitting next to her looked over. Peggy put her hand to her mouth and tried to look like she was fixing her lip-gloss.

  She opened her notebook and began drawing love hearts on the inside back cover. She found herself writing the letters SR inside one of the hearts and immediately colored over it. Stupid.

  Stop it, stop it, stop it, she kept telling herself. But it was no good. Her heart was running away with itself. Sammy Ruthven had gotten inside of her heart and he would not leave.

  When the bell rang, she had never been more both relieved and disappointed to get out of that classroom and off to History.

  Thirteen

  Lacey

  Peggy found classes difficult. There were no computers and no Wi-Fi, and she felt more than a little lost without them. Typing class should have at least been something Peggy was good at, but the keys on the typewriters were so damn heavy. She bashed her chipped polished fingers at the keys cursing under her breath as she typed out “The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.” for the sixteenth time.

  “Have you like, ever done typing before?” asked the stunning redhead from home room who was sitting next to her again and typing about twice as fast as she was.

  “Yeah, but not on one of these,” Peggy replied, shaking her hands and scowling at the clunky thing.

  “Yeah, these are pretty old, it sucks we don't have electric typewriters yet,” the girl said rolling her eyes. “I guess school budget is more interested in like, new basketballs or something.”

  Peggy laughed. “Electric typewriters?”

  “Have you heard of them?”

  “Yeah, I've heard of them,” Peggy replied.

  “We've got one at home, I use it to type up letters to all the guys I’m stalking.”

  “What?”

  “I'm totally joking of course,” laughed the girl. “Well, I just did it the once. But, anyway, it’s a hell of a lot easier than working on this hunk of junk.”

  Peggy wasn’t sure how to respond. She was unsure of why this girl was divulging this information to her or talking to her at all. She laced her hands together and stretched them out, looking around at the room of clacking keys, for the first time noticing there were absolutely no boys in the room.

  “Where are the boys?” Peggy asked.r />
  “Uh, where they always are fourth period, in shop. You think any of them would take typing? No way!” She shook her head. “I’m not even sure they’d be allowed to.”

  “At my school guys and girls do everything together,” Peggy shrugged.

  The girl laughed hysterically. “Oh my god, that's the funniest thing I've ever heard, you're totally joking right?” She laughed a bit more. “The last thing in the world I could imagine is like, Ben and Sammy coming in here and typing sentences about foxes! Oh man, that’s hilarious.”

  The mere mention of his name brought a warm scary feeling into her stomach. Peggy wondered if this girl was friends with him.

  “Did you used to go to one of those like, hippy schools for free thinkers or something?” the girl asked.

  “Kind of, I guess.”

  “You're not from around here.” It wasn’t really a question.

  “Not really,” Peggy replied.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Canada?” It was more of a question than an answer. “Miss Bates told everyone this morning in home room.”

  “Oh yeah, I wasn't really listening, home room blows,” the girl said. “I'm Lacey by the way.” She tossed her thick red hair over her shoulder, revealing a long gold lightning bolt earring dangling from her ear as she twisted her fingers through her hair on the other side. Peggy had a sudden urge to go online and try to find a pair.

  “Mag... Peggy,” Peggy said.

  “Mag-eggy?” asked Lacey making a face.

  “It's Margaret, Peggy for short.”

  “Hi Peggy,” said Lacey.

  “Hi,” said Peggy.

  “I can tell you all about this hell hole if you want. Do you have lunch plans? Let’s do lunch. I'll meet you in the cafeteria and save you from seven kinds of social disaster. You really don't want to be some kind of freakish outcast on your first day. Like if you are, you'll never escape it. I mean, look at her,” Lacey pointed to a girl with frizzy brown hair held in place with a huge pink flower in a high ponytail and huge round rimmed glasses. She was pulling tiny pieces of torn paper out of her typewriter. Peggy thought the girl didn't really look that different to herself. Lose the glasses, invest in a good straightener and a bit of bronzer, she'd be just as cute as any other girl in the room, probably even cuter than Peggy herself.