Once In A Lifetime

Chapter 2: (TWO) Right Back Where We Started From


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“Jack!”

Mom?

“Jack, get up!”

What’s Mom doing in my apartment? Oh, God, did I even do the dishes?

I opened my eyes, and immediately knew something was off.

For starters, I was pretty sure I hadn’t stuck glow-in-the-dark stars to my bedroom ceiling, but there was Cassiopeia, staring down at me.

The radio was on, too; it was playing ‘What I Like About You’ by the Romantics.

I didn’t have a radio.

I sat up and looked around.

This was my room, in my parents’ house, the one I hadn’t lived in since I was nineteen. They’d kept it the way I left it, and I’d stayed there a few times since, but… this wasn’t the way I’d left it.

I’d given away that guitar in the corner when I was fifteen.

“What the fuck?”

Was that my voice?? It was so much higher! My hand went to my throat. My entirely stubble-free throat. A shiver ran up my spine.

“Jack, you’ll be late for school!”

Oh my God

I could examine my room later. I needed to confirm something. I looked down; yep, I was tiny, and wearing pajamas that hadn’t fit me since early high school. I jumped out of bed and crossed the hallway to the bathroom.

Alright, mirror, here’s your chance to rebuild our relationship.

I flicked on the light, looked at the mirror, and my freckled thirteen-year-old eighth-grade face stared back, framed by brown hair that went down to my elbows. People always said I looked like my dad, but before puberty I always thought I looked more like my mom when she was little. Now I was looking at that face in the mirror again.

I slumped back against the shower door, a giddy smile working its way across my face.

Okay. You’re thirteen. That’s cool. You’ve done that before.

Maybe you haven’t done anything past that. Maybe it was all some super-vivid dream?

There were stories like that online, right? People waking up and finding out they’d dreamed years of their life.

Oh, God I hope it was a dream.

Then again, did it matter?

Either way… I was standing here. I was thirteen (again?). Either I’d had a vision of what not to do in the future, or I had a chance at a redo.

The effect was the same.

I slumped down on the floor and started laughing into my folded knees.

###

07:16 18 May 2009

A wide grin on my face, I bounded downstairs in cargo pants and my favorite t-shirt, a vintage Nancy Drew one that Bailey had given me for my twelfth birthday.

“Hey, kiddo. What’s got you so chipper this morning?” Dad asked, pulling out the milk while I rummaged through the cereal options.

“I had a terrible dream,” I said, pulling out a box of Cocoa Puffs. “But then I woke up! And it’s a beautiful day.” I leaned in and gave Mom a hug where she leaned against the counter. I was so much shorter than her!

I poured my cereal and hopped up on a barstool to eat.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, honey, but I’m glad you feel good about it,” Mom said. She cleared her throat. “By the way… your uncle asked if he could pick you up after school today.” This time, I caught the slight frown she shared with Dad; and, this time, I agreed with the sentiment.

“Mmm… no thanks.” I made a face. “Uncle Dane has some kinda weird opinions about stuff.”

Dad’s eyebrows rose, and he exchanged a glance with Mom, but I pretended not to notice and focused on my cereal instead. It was gone in short order, which was good, because Dad spotted the bus. I made it to the front door and was slipping my shoes on when Mom reminded me of something important.

“Got your backpack?”

“Ack!” I did not got my backpack. “Um, do you know where I put it?”

“That memory of yours, I swear,” Mom said, rolling her eyes with a smile. “Did you check your room?”

“I did not. Good idea.”

I darted back up the stairs and looked around until I saw a vaguely-familiar black backpack on the back of my desk chair. That’s probably it. I threw it on, grabbed a hoodie, and then grabbed the palm-sized flip phone sitting on the desk. I’d missed that phone; it was nice to see it again. That went in my pocket, and then I was ready to go. I pounded back down the stairs, got a quick hug from Mom, and ran for the bus.

I made it just in time, and got an exasperated look from the bus driver, whose name I couldn’t recall.

“Sorry,” I said quietly, and turned to take a seat.

My heart leapt, and my stomach tried for an Ollie. Bailey was sitting, two rows from the back – Our Spot – grinning at me and waving. She was thirteen, same as me; her hair was still long, and she hadn’t dyed it away from its natural strawberry blonde. I hadn’t seen that smile of hers directed at me in a long time.

My legs started moving toward her, while the rest of me panicked.

No, hey, she wants to see you. You haven’t fucked up yet, remember? She’s excited you’re here, you’re still friends, if you sat somewhere else it would be weird, you don’t want to disappoint her do you?

“Hey, Jack! How was the weekend?”

I slid into my seat next to her, dropping my backpack at my feet, and tried for a smile. Her own faded, and her eyebrows furrowed. She leaned into me, hooking her right arm around my left, the sort of casual touch normal in our friendship, the sort of thing I hadn’t done in years.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

And just like that, I couldn’t hold it in. I curled in toward her, resting my forehead on her right shoulder, grabbing her opposite shoulder with my right hand. I started crying. It was quiet, but it was still, by one count, something I hadn’t managed in a decade, and whether that life was a dream or not – I was settling on dream, it hurt less – there was a roiling mass of emotions trying to escape that way, and I was thirteen, and whatever made future-me unable to cry wasn’t a problem yet.

“I, I,” I got out, scrubbing at my eyes, “I had a really bad dream, where we were grownups and weren’t friends anymore. It felt really real, Bailey. It really hurt.”

She slipped her arm up around my back so it was sort of a hug. “You? Grown up?” she said, laughing a little. “Definitely a dream. Anyway, I’m here now, right?”

I nodded into her shoulder.

“And we’re still friends. So everything’s fine.”

That shot a burst of light through my heart, and it radiated up my chest to come out as a smile as I leaned back.

“Right. Everything’s fine.” I took a few deep breaths. “Thanks, Bailey.”

She shoved me lightly with her shoulder. “Duh, what’s a best friend for?”

I managed an actual grin then, shaky though it was. “So how was your weekend?”

###

By the time we’d gotten to school, normal middle-school stuff was coming back to me. You’d think the amount or clarity of memory would be an indicator as to whether the last night was a hyper-vivid dream or time travel of the consciousness (assuming there’s a difference), but I’d never been the most… attentive of people. I think my short-term memory was installed wrong.

“Um. Bailey?” I said as we walked down the hall.

“Sup?”

“I kinda forgot where our lockers are, and I don’t remember if there’s anything in there I need.”

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I remembered they were right next to each other, but that was it. I’d feel worse about it, but even without whatever-last-night-was, this sort of thing was a regular occurrence. Random facts? Brilliant, I rattle them off like an M60. Actually important information? Gone like Mr. Clean’s hair.

“Again? Dude, have you ever thought about writing this stuff down?”

I shrugged. “If I did, I lost the paper.”

“…yeah, that tracks.”

There was a reason I carried a backpack throughout my school career – that way, I didn’t have to worry about my locker.

Wait a minute.

What’s the combination, anyway?

“Um. Actually, never mind. I should be fine.”

“You forgot your locker combo, didn’t you.”

“Er.”

She had to stop and laugh for a while.

“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” I quipped with an eyeroll. It didn’t help.

Once she got herself under control, we headed for our lockers. She opened mine for me, and I felt kind of stupid, since it was empty. Her laughing again sort of made me feel better, though.

###

Our pre-lunch classes went well-ish – we shared all the same classes, so I didn’t have to figure out where to go, but the stuff I was supposed to be learning and stuff I’d picked up from the dream/future was all jumbled up, so it took me a bit to get back in the swing of things, such as when Mrs. Hayes gave us a pop quiz in Computer Science. Math class was easy, at least.

We were on the way to lunch when I saw someone in the hallway I really didn’t want to.

Ah, fuck.

It was Bryce. My ‘best friend’ the latter half of freshman year, and the one who convinced me to try football. He’d only become my ‘friend’ after my falling out with Bailey became public knowledge.

At least Dark-Timeline-Me stopped talking to him, too, eventually. Though that one was a lot more violent.

I eased closer to Bailey and back a little to keep her between us. Even if it was only a dream, I still had a very strong image of my nose being broken, and no plans to associate with Bryce any further.

“Jack? What’s wrong? Bryce do something?”

“Um. Dream stuff,” I said, sort of like it was an explanation. She nodded and made an “Mm,” so I guess she got it. Bryce passed us without anything else happening, but the whole situation made me realize I didn’t really have any friends, except Bailey; I was okay with that, but I also wasn’t sure it was totally healthy.

We need more friends this time around, I decided.

After we got our food, one of the band kids waved to Bailey from their table, and I swerved toward them.

“We don’t have to eat with them if you don’t want,” Bailey said. “I know you get uncomfortable around new people sometimes.”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “I think I wanna get out of my shell a little more this year.”

“More dream stuff?”

“Mm-hm.”

We slid into a couple of open seats next to each other. The one who’d waved, a girl with shoulder-length black hair, olive skin, and a My Chemical Romance t-shirt, waved again.

“Hey, Bailey! And – wait, are you Jack?” I nodded, and she grinned. “Cool, we finally get to meet Bailey’s BFF!” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Kelly, this is Andrew and Max,” she said, indicating in turn a stocky boy with bright red hair and glasses, and a- actually I wasn’t sure what gender Max was. They had shaggy brown hair mostly covering their eyes, and a loose green Triforce t-shirt under an open button-up, so there weren’t any big indicators there, and they didn’t say anything, just gave me a little smile.

“I’m Jack, but uh, you knew that. Er, Max, sorry but… what are your pronouns?”

Everyone looked a little surprised at me for saying that, and I glanced from face to face self-consciously.

“What?”

Bailey shook her head quickly. “Nothing.” She looked like she was thinking about something.

Kelly laughed again. “Ha! Knew you’d be cool.”

Max was smiling a bit wider now. “He/him. It’s the hair and the baby face, isn’t it?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, basically, with the name I wasn’t sure.”

“So what’s up with you finally coming over here, huh?” Kelly asked. “I mean, I kinda thought you weren’t a big fan of people.”

“Honestly? Teenagers scare the living shit outta me,” I said with a smirk, and she snorted milk. “But yeah, I figured if you’re cool enough for Bailey to hang out with, I ought to give you a shot.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Andrew said while Kelly went for a napkin, coughing. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, same!”

“Actually, Bailey, speaking of, we were gonna do a bonfire on the beach this weekend, you in?” Kelly asked, having gotten herself under control. “You can bring Jack, he seems like a cool guy.”

I smothered a wince. I’d tried being a ‘cool guy’, but something about it always prickled my fur. Like, oh, yeah, you’re cool, for a guy. I don’t know why it bothered me so much. Bryce always seemed good at it, before I realized what he was really like, and really that was reason enough for me not to bother so much.

“What do you think?” Bailey asked. I thought about it.

I was trying to do stuff different, and even though Dream-me hadn’t really gotten that much more comfortable around people, there was a lot more experience with it. And being thirteen just felt better than talking to people as an adult seemed to. I liked my voice more. I’d never been to a beach bonfire before, at least not one that didn’t involve underage drinking that I avoided anyway and a bunch of football players that Dream-me really didn’t fit in with that well. This one sounded like more fun, and it seemed like at least four of the people there would be cool.

“Sure, it could be fun.”

“Awesome!”

Kelly brought up my MCR reference, and we talked about music for a while; she seemed to be a big fan of MCR, Nirvana, and Green Day. I agreed, but also extolled the virtues of New Order, Sonic Youth, and Blues Traveler, and she said she’d check them out.

Andrew tried to convert us to the side of Eminem, which appeared to be a longstanding debate for the three of them. He played the trumpet, and had Ideas on its incorporation into rap. Which I was pretty sure was just a variety of ska, but I didn’t say that.

Max played the saxophone, but he wasn’t really into it, he said it was his parents’ idea. What he was into was video games.

Kelly was on drumline, but she brought up that she actually had a full drum kit at home, which was more her passion. I thought that was pretty cool.

“How about you? You play any music?”

“I have a guitar at home. I haven’t really played in a while, though.”

“Aww, why not?”

Because I got rid of it eleven years ago? I shrugged. “Loss of motivation maybe? I dunno. Maybe I should get back into it.”

“You totally should!”

The bell rang while I was thinking that over, and we all split off in our assorted directions.

The rest of the day went mostly the same, and finally I waved to Bailey as she headed to band and I made my way to the bus. A pang of something shot through my heart, but I reminded it I’d see her tomorrow and that seemed to help.

Neither of my folks were home from work when I got back, so I headed upstairs and tossed my backpack on the floor, then stared at my dust covered guitar for a while. It was an acoustic, but I had a converter stuck to it that could plug into the equally-dusty amp.

Alright, why not.

I hooked up the amp, grabbed the guitar, a tuner, and a pick, and sat down on my bed.

Let’s give it a shot.

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