s1.e10

Slumber Partly

           It took over a month, but Jared did eventually come around and accept Jace as part of the group. They didn’t talk to each other often, but Jace was fine with that. He couldn’t relate to him that well anyway, nor could he see why Wes liked him.

           Even so, it was nice to be able to sit and chill with the others in his presence. And by October 6th, he was used to hanging out in the group at The Dump.

           “I still think he did it,” Jared said after taking another red rubbery piece of the Fruit Roll-Up he was sharing with Colin. After gulping it down, he added, “Just ‘cause the jury got tricked doesn’t mean he’s innocent. It was that stupid glove, man!”

           “Juries don’t get ‘tricked,’” Arthur argued. “My dad says it doesn’t matter if he did it or not, if the state can’t prove it beyond a reasonable doubt, then there’s doubt.”

           “Ah, you’re just defending him cause he’s a ‘brother,’ aren’t ya?”

           Arthur glowered at him. “No, man. It’s not a race thing. I don’t even really like the guy. I don’t do football, and he looked scary on TV sometimes. Still, the point is…”

           “You guys still talking about the O.J. trial?” Zach said as he came over to the dumpster that the other boys were sitting against. “That ended days ago, dudes! Old news, move on. Nothing fresh about it anymore.”

           “Zach, man, it went on and on for months,” Wessy told him. “My mom didn’t care about it, but my dad was always watching it. You can’t just forget all about it that quickly. What about you, Jace? You watched the trial, right?”

           “Mm, not really,” he replied and took a piece of fruit roll. “Saw it on the news a lot, but my dad wanted me watching things other than some court room stuff all day.”

           “Okay. What about movies? You seen any R-rated ones lately? Any good ones?”

           Jace shook his head. “Saw Hackers. That was kind of cool, I guess. But I don’t think computer systems work or look like they did in the movie.”

           “That has a hot hacker girl in it,” Jared tried to add to the conversation.

           “Uh, yeah… Sure does. Also saw Canadian Bacon. That was kinda funny.”

           “Politic people try to start a war with Canada,” Jared explained.

           It was annoying, but Jace didn’t mind terribly not having to describe stories. He finished by adding, “And Empire Records. It, uh, was about a record store or something.”

           “Yeah, didn’t see that one,” Jared said with a shrug.

           “You guys got your Halloween costumes planned yet?” Wessy asked.

           “We still got a few weeks, man…” Zach said. “And I want to put a lot of thought into mine, so I gotta plan and make it perfect. I’m thinking about—”

           “Serial killer,” Felicity suddenly came out of nowhere and suggested. “You would make a great serial killer. There’s some famous ones that even look like you.”

           “Get out of here, weirdo!” Colin shouted at her. “No one likes you!”

           “Pfft.” She rolled her eyes and walked off. “Fine with me…”

           “Man, Felicity is messed up,” Wessy told Zach. “You do not look like a serial killer. Anyway, Jared and me are totally thinking about going as Mario and Luigi.”

           Zach wasn’t listening; he actually seemed to be pondering the serial killer idea.

           Gerald then came running in and announced, “H-hey, everyone! Conrad! Conrad is visiting! It’s crazy, he came up to the bike rack and said hi! He’s climbing over it now!”

           “Conrad Baker? Heard he was just some big punk, I’m not bowing to him or something,” Jared said, but looked around and saw that most of the others were excited.

           Jace, meanwhile, was busy climbing into the dumpster after his crew got to their feet. He was inside with the cover down before his new friends even really realized that he gone diving. Fortunately for him, it was mostly empty aside from the remains of uneaten lunchroom lasagna. He kept the cover cracked open to keep an eye on things.

           Delilah welcomed in Jace’s young dad, with a few kids already running up, asking for an autograph. He was tall, with gel-slathered spiky hair. His boots gave him another inch, and the wallet chain on his black pants clinched him into the Badass Youth club.

           As he pointed gun-fingers at kids and winked at a few, Jace wondered if his dad looked the way he did in fifth grade, or if middle school had quickly mutated him.

           Wright slid up to him. “Yo, Rad Con. What’cha doin’ here, man? Skipping?”

           “Heh, no, little dude. Middle school gives ya these half-day things sometimes on Fridays. Figured I’d stop by, sneak in, and see how you all managed to ruin my place.”

           “Nothin’ ruined here,” Zach called out to him. “Big D does a good job keeping good guys in and losers out. Rad, you were an inspiration to me as a fourthy, man.”

           “Whatever. I was just pulling your leg.” Conrad popped a Tic Tac. “Place looks all right. But you better not be the ones that get it shut down by the lame-o teachers.”

           “Hey, old Dump leader guy,” Hutch shouted and walked up looking tough.

           “That you, Hutch? You big old chamoke,” Conrad scoffed at the one kid around just barely taller than him. “You still look like a bonehead. Still beatin’ up kids?”

           Hutch, who already hit puberty and looked like a Stephen King novel bully, was probably insulted—but hid it well. He didn’t show Conrad any courtesy as he made an expected request. “That girl,” he pointed at Delilah, “broke the law and took my job.”

           “What law?” Conrad shoved his hands in his pockets. “The heck you on about?”

           “Jace, what are you doing in there?” Wessy asked, knocking on the dumpster. “I think you’re gonna miss something really cool. Maybe even a fight or something.”

           “Uh, I think I saw… a rare Pog in here. I’m trying to find it.”

           “I hear ya, man, but it’s not every day that a former Dump owner stops by.”

           Jace watched from the safety of his trash house as other kids approached his dad and drowned out Hutch’s begging. They had requests, questions, asked for advice on how to improve the club—and one of them pleaded to hang out at his house.

           It didn’t take long at all for Rad Con to snap at them, bringing his hands out of his pockets to push them away. “Hey, hey! Back off! Look, I’m in middle school now, so I don’t really give two shits about all of your little kid problems. I just wanted to drop by and check out the place before I hit up King Arcade for the afternoon. So bye, losers.”

           Those that weren’t in shock by his attitude and language looked disappointed, and with that, Conrad left the scene without any fanfare.

           “Wow,” Wessy said as Jace opened up the dumpster lid and watched him leave. “Kids respected him last year? He’s a total jerk. Guy probably thinks we’re all trash.”

           While the boys talked about how little they were impressed by the visitation, Jace recollected a few of the many, many times his uncle had spoken poorly of his dad.

           The fifth-graders had another chance to bemoan the former owner together at the end of the day as they got to their buses. Wes, Colin, Jared, and Arthur stopped in front of their ride home and pulled Jace aside for a second, as kids pushed by them.

           “So, we still seeing ya tonight?” Wessy asked. “Didn’t get cold feet right?”

           “Nope, no cold feet here… Should I bring anything?”

           “Poster of Conrad Baker to throw darts at?” Jared suggested.

           “Just a Game Boy, if you got one,” Wessy said after a chuckle. “It’ll be great. We watch movies, play games, check out weird late-night TV, and eat pizza.”

           “You dumb boys have fun at your stupid slumber party,” Sadie said in jest as she boarded the bus. “Can’t wait to see all the makeovers!”

           “Ugh, Sadie! Boys don’t have slumber parties, we have awesome sleepovers!”

           She laughed as she disappeared into the bus, and others began to step aboard. By this point, Jace was so cool with the group that he wished he could ride with them, too.

           Instead, he turned to board his bus, farther back… but almost immediately ran into a girl heading in the opposite direction to her own yellow monster.

           “Sorry—” he said, and then shut up when he noticed her big olive-green shirt.

           Lucy’s oversized headphones had been knocked off her head, and they now rested on the top of her also oversized brown backpack. She looked up at Jace listlessly.

           “Can’t anyone ever watch where they’re going…” she sighed.

           Before he got on the bus, Wessy turned and said, “Yo, that’s my half-sister Lucy. She’s in fourth grade. And, um, not to be rude, but stay away from her, okay?”

           “Uh, hi…” Jace said, thinking on how he had now seen both his parents today.

           “Stop trying to protect me like I’m a helpless puppy,” Lucy said to her brother.

           “I just don’t want my friends hitting on you, Luce! That would get weird and gross and then we wouldn’t be able to be friends anymore. I don’t wanna risk it.”

           “Give me a break…” She slid her headphones back on and stared at Jace for a moment longer, and raised an eyebrow. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

           “Better not!” Wessy shouted, loudly. Jace and Lucy both stared at him like he was crazy, so he calmed himself and huffed, “Come on, Luce. I’ll walk you to our bus.”

           “You are so weird sometimes,” she protested as she was dragged away. “Get off!”

           Relieved that she probably didn’t burn his face into memory, Jace got on the bus.

           After he got off later, as Millie split off, he noticed that his apartment’s door was open. When he got to it, he looked inside and saw Wes talking to a guy about his height with thinning gray hair and a patch over his left eye. At first glance, it looked like his uncle was being robbed by a marauder that did shakedowns on Flamingo residents.

           “Oh, Jason, come in!” Wes waved him in. “It’s all right, he’s a cool guy.”

           Jace slid in and kept his leery eyes on the strange man. How could he not be a robber? Wes was actively handing over bills from a stack of fresh greenbacks.

           “Sorry I couldn’t pay yesterday, my… uh, paydays are a little unpredictable.”

           “And… what is it you do again?” the man asked in a gruff, almost old cowboy kind of voice. “I see you’ve made some additions to the apartment, after coming here with so little,” he added and looked around the living room.

           “This and that, while I dip my toes into the market… Oh, buddy, this is our landlord. Ya know, he has some interesting stories—guy’s been all over the country.”

           “Used to ride a motorcycle,” he told Jace with a touch of pride. “And I believe you must go to school with my kid.”

           Jace thought about that. What kid? Maybe this was Pog Boy’s dad? Wait, no… if he’s the landlord guy, he probably lives here too. And the only other kid that lives here is…

           “Wow, this place looks nothing like how Ms. Bellavaux kept it,” Millie said from the doorway, looking around inside without actually coming in.

           “Hey, pumpk’n,” Mr. Vanbusen said, giving his daughter an old rugged smile. “You have a good day at school today? Learn how to take apart a Harley yet?”

           “Hi, Daddy. Do you have to kick them out?”

           “Oh, no, not yet,” he said with a hearty chortle.

           “Your dad… is the owner of all the apartments?” Jace asked her.

           “Yeah, duh. You didn’t know that? Ya think I just moved here with my dad to live with a bunch of old people? You stand out because you’re the only one my age.”

           “Um, could you actually not look around at our home?” Jace said, realizing that an observant girl like Millie might notice the smallest thing inside and get suspicious.

           She looked insulted, rolled her eyes, and stepped back out. Jace wanted to get some Super Nintendo practice in before the sleepover that would start soon, but now the two older guys in the room were sharing stories. Stories. He knew those took forever.

           So, instead of sitting around listening to those, he went outside as well. Millie was waiting for him as she leaned against the stucco exterior, her arms crossed, eyes staring at the ground. She must have grown up here, at an old people apartment. How odd.

           “You know…” she muttered, “a nice old French lady used to live here. She baked me the best cookies ever each Saturday. She died two months ago. Bet you’ve never even heard her name. Bet you don’t care about anyone else at this place.”

           “Hey, give me a break. I didn’t want to move here, either. My dad picked it.”

           “Your dad looks pretty young. Is he even your dad, really?”

           “Y-yeah! Your dad is freaking old. Is he really yours?”

           “Y-y-you jerk!” She hit his shoulder and looked really upset. “Why would you ask me that? I’ve known him all my life! He’s the only family I got!”

           “B-but you said it first…” Jace stopped, thinking maybe that didn’t matter. She had obviously been hurt by the returned accusation. “Sorry. Okay?”

           Man, this girl’s hard to hate. I try to, but I just feel sorry for her every time.

           He asked her, “Isn’t everyone here kind of your family? They seem to like you.”

           “They like me because I’m some ‘cute kid.’ Once I’m a teenager, they probably won’t even wave back. We get a lot of punks around here, causing them trouble. Living here really sucks sometimes… And it’s not like I can just go somewhere else.”

           Jace didn’t know what to say, so he figured it’d be smarter to keep his mouth shut. Inside, it looked like their “dads” were ending their conversation with a few laughs.

           “You’re going to one of Wes’ famous sleepovers tonight, huh?” she asked.

           “Um, yep. You want some, like, what, ‘juicy tidbits’ about them?”

           “I told you already.” She shoved off the wall and began to walk away with her dad. “I think those guys are boring. Don’t let them make you boring, too.”

           “I want to be boring, if it means you’ll leave me alone,” Jace muttered to himself.

           Wes came out and plopped his hand on his shoulders. “Welp. We get to live here for at least another month. Feels good to have money coming in.”

           “Did you really forget your own landlord’s name?” Jace asked. “Geez, why are we just learning now that he’s Millie’s dad? I thought you were Dr. Research.”

           “Hey, cut me a break. I just didn’t make the connection. I’ve… had my mind on other things recently. Come on, let’s start getting you ready for the sleepover.”

           As his uncle drove him back to his old neighborhood, Jace checked his backpack on his lap one last time. It was full of compartmentalized sleepover gear, including his own pillow because Wes said it was always much easier to fall asleep on a familiar pillow when at someone else’s house. Game Boy, toothbrush, a few rented video games, and some cans of soda were also inside—since Wessy’s mom regulated sugar intake, the boys always smuggled a few with them when they came over, to have or share.

           “Anything I should know about this sleepover?” Jace asked.

           With his childhood block approaching, Wes answered, “I doubt it’s anything special. We had like fifty of them a year, and this is probably just another typical one. Just keep thinking before you speak and try to make friends with them.”

           He pulled up to his first house and like always, looked at it nostalgically. Before he got out of the car, Jace mentioned, “By the way. I saw my dad today. He came to The Dump. But I hid in a dumpster and he didn’t see me. I think you were right about him.”

           “Oh yeah? I don’t really remember him stopping by more than once or twice. I guess you did good if you avoided him. And now you know where I’m coming from.”

           Jace looked at the house, and then back. “So… what are you doing tonight?”

           Wes grinned. “More research. Look, don’t be nervous. Go right in and have fun. My mom will keep the peace, and you can call me if you need to. But remember, these kids are only your friends for a little while… See how easy it is to have them, so when you’re back, you can try again with your 2020 ones. Hey, you danced in front of the entire fifth-grade class. Some sleepover is nothing. Chill out and don’t try to be the star here.”

           Jace took a breath and stepped out. He waved to his uncle, he waved back, and then he took off. His house was just ahead. How weird it would be to finally go inside, to see the place that for him, once only existed in photos printed from a drugstore.

           Great Auntie swung open the screen door and she welcomed him in excitedly. “You must be Jason! Come in, the others are waiting.”

           “Oh. Um, hi. I’m… the new one,” he said, realizing how stupid he sounded.

           But she just smiled at the remark. “The more friends the better for my Wessy. Oh, but don’t tell him I said that, or call him that. He gets embarrassed so easily.”

           “So do we… have dinner together?” He asked as he stepped in and looked at the faded paint on the furniture and walls, and the other messy imperfections of the house.

           What his uncle had said about his childhood home was accurate; it was very clearly lived in, but not dirty. Height marks in different crayon colors were on the doorframe of the nearby kitchen. Wayward Legos nested in nooks and crannies. A wrinkled Legend of Zelda poster from Nintendo Power hung behind the living room couch. There were faint scratch marks everywhere, the downstairs television was on Nickelodeon even though no one was watching it currently, and summer camp creations including a sailboat and a ragged dreamcatcher sat in front of his mom’s book collection.

           “Oh, no, I’m not cooking for five boys,” she replied with a laugh. “There’s pizza already up there and more in the fridge. Plenty to go around.”

           Jace always thought his great aunt was cool for an old lady, though they had only seen each other a few times over the years. He could definitely tell how she was a major influence on how Wes became, well, Uncle Wes. He said thanks and went upstairs.

           The second floor was small, with only a closet, attic access, and a bathroom next to Wessy’s room, its door wide open. He heard channel surfing; the TV was blasting out another show or commercial every few seconds. It stopped on a music video for Weezer’s Undone, which Jace understood as a song about hanging out and sweaters.

           “Haha, Jared likes Weezer. Dork,” Arthur’s voice joked.

           “Shut up, Arty. It’s a good chilling-out-with-friends-at-home song.”

           “Yeah, man. So is Teen Spirit. You know, if you’re actually, you know, cool.”

           “Grunge is so overplayed, man. Also, it’s dead. Had its time. Anyway, Kurt—”

           “Yo, Jason!” Wessy shot up and called out once he appeared in the doorway. In his hand was a half-eaten Pizza Hut slice. “Get in here so we can start the party.”

           “Hey, guys…” Jace responded a little meekly, and took in the sight of the room.

           Colin, on a beanbag chair in the corner of the blue-carpeted room, played his Game Boy. Arthur sorted Wes’ collection of Super Nintendo games that were lined up at the bottom of the fire engine red kid’s entertainment center, picking ones to play, and Jared went back to surfing after failing to greet Jace and a minute of the song went by.

           “Wes, hit me up. Batteries are low,” Colin requested. “I’m about to fight Wario.”

           “I gotcha.” Wes pulled off the power supply clipped on his shorts and tossed it.

           “Haven’t you beaten Super Mario Land 2 like, ten times, at least?” Jared asked him.

           “Yeah, but I like to see how fast I can beat it from start to finish,” Colin replied.

           “What’s the point of that? I’d rather just move onto the next game.”

           No stranger to watching speed runs online sometimes, Jace had to chuckle a little as he dropped his backpack and took a seat on the room’s large red inflatable chair.

           “We were kind of wasting time talking about Conrad Baker, tearing him down and stuff,” Wes explained to him. “We don’t need the class talking about him like he was a great legend or something anymore. We will be what next year’s kids talk about.”

           “We don’t normally trash-talk people,” Arthur explained. “But that dude had it coming, and Jared’s pretty good at roasting.”

           “And it’s not easy to trash-talk someone when you can’t really bring up trash itself,” he emphasized. “You know, since we hang out at a ‘dump’ and everything.”

           “How you doing, Jace? You bring anything cool over?” Wessy asked.

           “A few video games…” he answered.

           “Mind if I look?” Wessy went ahead and started to dig through his backpack before he got a response. “Oh, nice. Mortal Kombat. What’s this box? Video Klub?”

           “It’s… a new place.” Jace said as a big old hairy mutt suddenly meandered into the room and then sniffed at his shoes. “I didn’t know you had, um, have a dog.”

           “Oh yeah, that’s Tiger. My mom had him before I was even born, so I kinda grew up with him. He’s… getting old now, though. He’s kinda slow and deaf.”

           Tiger snorted on Jace’s shoes, yawned and whined, and gracelessly plopped down and fell asleep near his feet. He gave the dog a pat on the head and relaxed a little.

           “Got some videos from Blockbuster for tonight,” Wessy said and pointed out the three that were stacked up above his own personal VCR. “I got Batman Returns, Hot Shots!, and The Lion King. We don’t have to sit around and watch them—we usually just have movies playing in the background. I like doing a lot of stuff at the same time.”

           “Jared cried when Simba’s dad died,” Colin bravely stated. “It’s true. We were all there. It was his birthday movie. We saw it happen. It’s true.”

           “Shut up, Colin! That’s still not true and will never be true!” Jared protested.

           “It’s totally true,” Wessy whispered to Jace, purposely as loudly as possible.

           Jared went after him next as Arthur burst out laughing, and soon a smile formed on Jace’s face. They could make fun of Jared, so this wasn’t so bad—and it also felt familiar. He had a few good sleepovers with his own friends before things went south.

           Dinner soon rolled around, if it could be called that, as all it involved was a mom bringing up a fresh box of pizza and water bottles. Water. She mentioned the day’s sugar quota, so Wes was denied a second liter of soda. But Jace saved the night with his four smuggled cans, gaining favor from the others. He was actually fine with water himself.

           Jared started laughing after a Coke-filled belch, and as Batman fought the Penguin on Wessy’s TV, he exclaimed, “Still thinkin’ about that burn you made earlier, Arty. About how the only thing Conrad Baker bakes is fart cookies in his butt.”

           “It was good…” he half agreed, half sighed. “But don’t kill the joke, J.”

           “Speaking of baking…” Wes went to his closet and took out a worn box with the words ‘Creepy Crawlers’ on the side, with a kid making bugs. “Guess what I dug up.”

           “That old thing? Man, we haven’t made crawlers since we were, what, eight?”

            “Still got some goop left,” Wes said with a shrug and plugged in the orange and green oven that was inside the box. “Let’s make a few bugs and then, I dunno, light them on fire or put them around the kitchen or something. You ever done this, Jace?”

            He shook his head, but understood the concept. It looked like it let you make your own colorful insects with molds. It was somewhat similar to the 3-D printers rich kids from his time would use and show off to their jealous peers.

           As the oven warmed up, Colin finished off the last slice of Pizza Hut deep dish and asked Jared, “Hey, J, who’s gonna win the World Series this year?”

           “Cleveland probably. It’s the Indians and the Braves, dude. I don’t really care.”

           “You watch any baseball, Jason?” Colin asked him. “Me and Jared aren’t serious sports junkies, but we’ve been on a little league team for a few years together.”

           He said truthfully, “The World Series, sure. Last year’s was… pretty crazy, huh?”

           Jared and Colin looked at one another, and then Jared said, “Yeah, real crazy. Crazy in that it didn’t happen.” An army of penguins with rockets strapped to their backs marched on the television. “Remember? There was some big strike last year?”

           Screwed up again, Jace thought. I really need to keep my mouth shut.

           “Oh. Yeah, duh. Guess I was thinking of ’93.”

           Wessy passed around the metal tray molds, and the boys took turns filling up bug shapes with what little green, red, black, and purple “goop” was left. Jace was actually a little proud of his tri-colored centipede as it went into the oven with the others.

           While they baked and hardened, Arty observed, “You know, this thing is basically an Easy-Bake Oven. Except… you can’t even eat this stuff. At least girls get to do that.”

           “Think Sadie’s making cupcakes right now?” Colin asked. “I think she has one.”

           “She usually has a sleepover with Ash and her old other friend Celeste opposite ours,” Jared explained to Jace. “I know! Wes, we should totally prank call her again.”

           “Nah… that’s kinda mean and immature…” Wes argued, but then went right into a snicker and grabbed his room’s hotdog phone. “Let’s do it.”

           Jace watched as this prospect excited the others, and they got close so they could hear the victim. Wes punched in her digits, and Sadie answered with the basic, “Hello?”

           Wes cleared his throat and tried his best to sound like an adult. “Ahem, yes. This is the Water Department. We’ve noticed some unusual activity. Is your toilet running?”

           “Gee, I think one’s talking to me right now. Grow up, Wessy.” And she hung up.

           “Wait—oh, come on,” Wes groaned as the others burst out into laughter.

           Jared caught his breath and said, “Hey, she hasn’t heard Jace’s phone voice yet.”

           “N-no, I couldn’t…” Jace tried to refuse the hotdog phone being given to him.

           “Come on, give it a try,” Wes urged him. “I’ll dial the number. She has a good sense of humor, and she’ll get us back sometime anyway. Just come up with something!”

           Jace muttered a curse word and grabbed the phone. He had watched a few prank calls online done with soundboards, but never figured he’d have to try one himself.

           “Wes, if this is you again…” Sadie grumbled from her not-too-far-away house.

           Jace put on his best ‘old guy’ voice, more convincing than Wessy’s. “Evening ma’am. I wanted to let you know that no one answered the door, so I had to slide your package through your mail slot. I think I heard it break open when I pushed it through.”

           “P-package? What package?”

           “I believe it was marked as ‘live spiders’. Ma’am? Are you there?”

           There wasn’t one, but three audible shrieks on the other end, and before she slammed the phone down, Sadie clearly shouted “Mom! Mom!”

           “Whoa, we got Prankin’ J. Connor here!” Colin exclaimed. “That was great! How’d you know she was horribly, deathly afraid of spiders?”

           “Well, who isn’t?” Jace said and smiled at yet another win as the others laughed.

           He just hoped Sadie would be kind when the time for revenge arrived.

           The early internet had, unsurprisingly, failed Wes. Searching for written books was already an unreliable and boring crapshoot, and what few actual websites there were about time travel were hard to read, unorganized, and mostly full of nonsensical and rambling theories among GIFs of stars and compressed Back to the Future stills.

           So, he was off to a library. Not the Royal Valley Central Library—that had already closed for the day before the sun had set. But the university had a respectable one, kept open into the late hours for the sake of caffeine-addled cramming students. Surely they had a few books on the possibility of time travel and causation effects, by someone smart like Stephen Hawking or Michio Kaku, or a local professor. He wouldn’t mind finding a more pseudo-scientific take on the field, either, by some nutty alumni who tried building a time machine in his garage or something. He was just desperate for ideas, voices, and opinions. Was he seriously the city’s only time traveler? No, there had to be someone before him, or even in this case, after him. Someone smarter. For the sake of the remainder of his vacation, and his nephew’s existence, he had to learn more.

           As he wouldn’t be a student for another eight years, he wouldn’t be able to check anything out, but as long as he minded his own business and kept quiet, he knew he could pass as someone who might belong there.

           He parked in the visitor’s lot, walked through the quad under a late dusk sky, and found the library and its modern, angular architecture. It looked to him like an industrial seashell. Once inside the well-lit and inviting learning space that looked ripped out of The Breakfast Club, he gave the librarian a wave, noticing that he wasn’t quite as old as how he remembered him, and walked past the computer desks, towards the back where he could have more privacy. The few students about ignored him, as they were more interested in their National Geographic magazines and hip Apple Newton organizers.

           And again, something was watching. Another eye had formed from black, liquid-like tentacles. It appeared briefly near the security camera in the corner, identified Wes after waiting for him for some time, and then returned to the abyss on the other side.

           But since Wes hadn’t seen such a thing, he still assumed nothing was following either him or Jace as he found a lonely computer and took a seat. He also couldn’t know that it would be the last time on this trip that he felt like there were no eyes on him.

           For now, he had searching to do. He entered into the index system: “time travel”.

           Strangely, the nearby ceiling lights flickered as he pressed the enter key, as did the old CRT monitor itself. For a moment, it sounded like something electronic fizzed from an indiscernible direction. He shook it off as failing wiring and looked at the results.

           The library had copies of A Brief History of Time, The Time Machine, a Wrinkle in Time, and a few books on physics in general, but little else. What did he expect? Earth still had no verified time travelers, at least none that came back and wrote about it. But, on the second and last page of results, there was a single entry, and it stood out.

           The Possibilities of Time, by Malcolm Corathine, written in 1990. Wes was around 95% sure he had no idea who the author was, and yet, he sounded very vaguely familiar. With nothing else that might actually help him, he memorized the book’s location and took off to look for it. The lights flickered again as he got up and went into the stacks.

           “Wonder who this guy is…” he muttered to himself as he went deeper into the library, farther away from the entrance, to a place where the lights didn’t quite touch.

           He heard more buzzing as he knelt down to search for the book on the lowest shelf, and then all the lights within twenty feet of him shut off.

           This wasn’t someone playing with switches or funky wiring. The air smelled odd, and he felt eyes on him. The eerie silence in the dark back of a library, one of his least liked places in the world, was suddenly broken by the sound of a book dropping nearby.

           Determined to get the book and return to somewhere well lit, he hurriedly found and grabbed it. It was a small thing, made of cheap paper. It was also in pristine condition, maybe never brought out of the library before—maybe never even read.

           He stood up and as he began to head back, looked at the two sides of the book. On the cover was a poorly drawn, sketchy hourglass, below the title. There was no subtitle. On the back was a picture of the author, an old man with a white beard and small glasses, looking overly serious and confident about his writing.

           “In his first book, Dr. Malcolm Corathine of Royal Valley, California, explores the likely local and global effects of time travel and interaction with our past selves and places. As he shares personal mathematic and quantum formulas that prove time travel as possible, Dr. Corathine will also lead the reader in a journey of growing up in Royal Valley, the town’s urban legends, and his own personal sighting of a real time traveler.

           “Dr. Corathine teaches at Royal University and is a graduate of—”

           Wes wasn’t able to read which university the author and professor had gone to or what he held a degree in—because a strange, sharp black tentacle of some kind had just then skewered the potential guide to his own time journey.

           In shock, he could only stare at the weird dark thing, its reflective body moving like black ants on television static. Before he could get a firm grip on the book, the tendril whipped back, yanking it out of his hands. He then watched, dumbfounded, as it pulled the book into a small lightless portal. It disappeared into it, devoured.

           The portal closed, and after his adrenaline kick smoothed out some, he cautiously pulled out a few books and looked around to see if he could find another portal.

           It found him first—twice over. A pair of black holes suddenly opened up from the side of either shelf in front of him. He froze in place, legitimately terrified. Then a third portal opened up between the two, and a small floating white eye popped out.

           What the hell is this little Eye of Sauron thing? He thought rather mindlessly.

           With the eye staring at him, two long, shape-shifting tendrils came from the side portals. Moving like a monster tree’s twisting branches, they bent themselves into words, each letter connected together and meant for him.

           He watched, frozen in place, as they shaped into, “WHATCHA DOIN HERE, WESSY BUDDY?” And then they transformed into, “YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GO HOME”. After that, the tentacles, eye, and portals vanished again.

           He grasped at his chest and felt his heart racing, and only then did he notice that three college students—two girls and a guy—were on their way to check out a bunch of books, and had stopped to stare at him. They gave him curious looks. Did they not see what he had? Was he going crazy? Would this be his own Time Ninja, and would Jace in turn not believe him when he tried to convince him that the time tentacles were—

           Before he finished the thought, over a hundred of the portals spawned all around him, trapping him in a spherical net. Eyes sprung out of every single one. After staring at him for a moment, some eyes in front of him returned to their portals, leaving those spaces black. This formed the most unsettling made-for-him words yet: “LEAVE 1995”.

           That did it. As soon as the portals vanished, Wes freaked out and ran past the gawking students. He fled the library and ran off into the night. The incident would be on his mind for weeks, but he was proud of one little thing. At least I didn’t scream.

           Using mostly yellow Lego bricks, the boys, now in their pajamas, had made an unfortunate victim on his back that happened to have a dozen Creepy Crawler bugs wiggling both on him and out of him, resulting in the spillage of red-brick blood. The scene’s creation had earned many laughs, and Jace contributed the construction techniques he had developed over the years with his own version of the old toy.

           That was hours ago, and now the last of The Lion King was playing on the TV, with poor Bug Man among the audience. As the glow of the animation filled the room and was its only light source, Colin snored quietly from his air mattress in the corner.

           “Kid’s a lightweight,” Wes mentioned to Jace. “He’s always out by eleven.”

           Jace looked at the Nickelodeon Time Blaster clock on Wes’ computer desk. It was 12:02 at night, the climatic fight between Simba and Scar had just ended, and Wes was at the VCR, ready to rewind it, which his mom always made him do.

           “You crying?” Arthur inquired as he looked closely at Jared’s eyes.

           “No, man! I keep telling you, I don’t cry at movies.”

           “How late do you guys stay up, anyway?” Jace asked after a yawn.

           “As late as we want,” Jared answered. “Until we get bored and tired.”

           “Usually later on Saturdays,” Wes added. “When I’m here instead of my dad’s. But he has me tomorrow, so I have to leave early. Friday sleepovers are never as good.”

           “You guys ever sleep at someone else’s house?”

           “Yeah, we take turns, kinda,” Arty answered. “But they’re usually here.”

           “I don’t have ‘em at my dad’s…” Wes stopped the tape and began to rewind it. “I don’t really like his house and I don’t have much of a room there anyway.”

           “It is a much bigger house though, dude,” Jared said.

           “Who cares? I don’t like spending nights there, with Lucy’s mom and stuff.”

           “Whatever.” Jared sighed and grabbed the remote, as the VCR spools went into high gear. He started channel surfing, flipping through strange late-night TV and old cartoons on his quest to find entertainment. “Doesn’t your dad have HBO, too?”

           Wes glared at him. “Just drop it, okay?”

           “All right, all right. I’m just saying, is all.”

           Jace yawned again and got into his provided blue sleeping bag, his pillow on top. It was surprisingly comfortable and clean, and it smelled like it had just been washed.

           Arthur was the next to fall victim to the sleeping virus, and without saying a word, he crawled into his own bag next to the door, took off his glasses, gave his saline nose spray a few pumps, and turned around to have the darkness of the wall.

           “Now it’s just the three of us. Who will last the longest?” Jared quipped.

           “I can,” Wes promised. “Not even a challenge. I’ve already done all-nighters.”

           Jace studied his young uncle’s eyes and face for a moment to see how awake he still was, confirming what the older version had told him about his sleep schedule.

           “Sometimes there’s good stuff on TV this late,” Jared mentioned, flipping past a loud MTV music video. “You like weird shows, right, Wes?”

           “Yeah, I guess. I like Mystery Science Theater. It’s on this late sometimes.”

           “That thing where robots make fun of bad movies? Yeah, I know that one.”

           Jared went past some old guy who was staring into the camera and talking about something, paused on a beer commercial, and then went back a channel.

           “—and that’s what we’ll be talking about tonight, on Quantum Wisdom,” the old balding man said from his desk, a blanket backdrop full of stars behind him.

           The show went into a low budget title sequence with floating cutouts of black holes, hourglasses, galaxies, a pocket watch, and mathematical equations, ending on the words Quantum Wisdom: Expand Your Knowledge. Created by Dr. Malcolm Corathine.

           “What is this public access crap?” Jared said with a laugh. “Did this crazy dude make this in his garage or something? Oh, man, this might be worth a laugh.”

           “I’ve seen this thing a few times,” Wes replied. “The guy actually sounds really smart, but I don’t know what he’s talking about usually. Sometimes though he makes things simple and uses objects to explain stuff, kinda like Bill Nye.”

           “Time travel,” the doctor began, using large hand gestures to imply the bigness of the subject matter. “I’ve spoken about it often on the show. Of course, that is because it’s my favorite subject matter. But what is it, really?”

           He brought out a hefty hourglass and turned it over to start the sand flowing—though it was hard to see because of the poor lighting and video.

           “Is this guy for real?” Jared scoffed. “Wes, you really watch this junk?”

           He shrugged. “For a few minutes, sometimes, if he’s talking about something interesting, and I can understand it. I think the university makes this show.”

           Jace was interested, but didn’t want to draw suspicion by asking Jared to stay on the channel; it would be odd if he made it sound like he wanted to keep watching. They may not think he was a time traveler, but they would probably think he was weird after such a request. He just had to keep quiet and hope that he’d get a few minutes with the mysterious professor. Maybe he was a quack, but what if he actually knew something?

           “So, tonight we talk about time travelers, visiting us right here, right now. What would they look like, sound like? What would they wear, how would they blend in? And would they be here to save us, to warn us, or are they just visiting? This is Episode 4-13: Travelers Among Us,” he held a poster board with the episode number and title, and the production date, “filmed on March 5^th, 1990, at Royal Valley University, California.”

           “Please tell me this guy lets you call in,” Jared asked Wes hopefully. “Those are the best local shows. Anyone can call in and prank them!”

           “Um, no, and it wouldn’t matter because this was filmed five years ago?”

           “Check out his bowtie. Maybe Spice should give him some fashion advice.”

           Peeved, Jace thought, will you both please shut up and let me listen?

           “The most curious thing about the idea of time travelers is their purpose here, and if they fulfilled this purpose, then why would they need be here at all? Do they create alternate realities after they leave, or as soon as they arrive? What if there are hundreds, thousands, from some ruined future, and they come here to fix mistakes? But we would never know, either because they hide themselves well, or in fact, upon making their ‘correction,’ they were no longer needed here to begin with, and they disappear, yet their handiwork remains and becomes a new truth we all accept? As my students might say, it kinda… blows your mind, man,” he said with an entertained grandpa chuckle.

           “This guy…” Jared, out of insults, said with one last laugh.

           “I’d like to tell you a story, about when I actually saw a time traveler. You don’t have to believe it, but I’m going to share it anyway. It happened last year, when I—”

           “Wes, you and your friends need to go to bed,” his mom interrupted with a knock, taking everyone’s attention off of the television. “You need to get up early.”

           He didn’t put up a fight. “Okay, okay. Was out of stuff to do anyway.”

           With that, he turned the TV off right away and got into bed. Jace really wanted to hear the story about the time traveler, but he was powerless with Auntie in charge.

           “Night, dudes,” Jared said once the door had closed and the room fell into darkness. After he wormed into his sleeping bag, he added, “Hope you don’t have nightmares about Dr. Time Travel dragging you to the past.”

           The remark got the last few snickers of the night. Jace kept his eyes open and looked at the glowing sticker stars on the ceiling, floating among the little hills of valleys of white, all of it dimly illuminated by the deep blues from the moonlit night outside.

           I wonder what this room is like in 2020, Jace thought. Is there a kid like my uncle living here? I bet he’d want to see what this Corathine guy has to say… Maybe someone put his videos up on YouTube? I would have to go back to the present first to find out. There’s gotta be recordings—

           His ponderings were broken by the sound of a flashlight click. He looked up at Wes’ bed, and saw that he was under the glowing covers. From the faint rustle of paper and the quick pace of the page flips, Jace thought there was a strong likelihood of Wes reading a comic book. This continued for ten minutes before Jace finally spoke up.

           “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly.

           “You can’t?” his muffled voice replied. “I always stay up late. I don’t like sleeping that much. Can’t do things when you sleep. Other than dream, I guess.”

           Maybe this would be a good chance to ask Wes a few questions, or just talk to him privately? Well, if the others aren’t actually awake, that is.

           He was sure there were many questions he could ask, but at the moment, inside his young uncle’s childhood bedroom late at night surrounded by snoozing ten-year-olds, he could really only think of one. But he thought it might be a good one.

           “So… how’d you and Charlie Pippin become friends?”

           “Huh?” Wes murmured back. “Hey, you ever put a bright flashlight behind your fingers? It’s like I can see my bones or something. It’s creepy.”

           “Wes, tell me about how you met Charlie Pippin,” Jace repeated.

           Jared, surprisingly still awake, mumbled, “Yeah… tell him about Ol’ Charlie…”

           Wes turned off his light and emerged from the blanket. He was still wide-awake, and with his eyes adjusted to the dark, Jace could see him stretch a few times.

           “So, yeah, Charlie Pippin was close to being my first friend. My mom has been friends with Colin’s mom since they were in college, so I knew him as a toddler.”

           “You would’a been a toddler too,” Jared said with a sleepy laugh.

           “Yeah, yeah. But, you know, that means that Colin has always kinda been there since I can remember. Charlie, though? Man, he made an entrance. It was kindergarten, the first day. I show up at school with my Super Mario lunchbox looking like a dork, my best bud Colin at my side, and we go to the first class I’d ever have there. Ms. Muntz was my teacher. She was old, kinda smelled like a closet, but nice.

           “Me and Colin, we try to make friends, but they aren’t really having it. Guess what with there being two of us, maybe we looked intimidating, or something. No one wants to try and make two friends at the same time, nope. But Charlie? That kid had a plan from day one, man. A five-year-old with his life all planned out. It was like he was the coolest guy in the world that died doing the most extreme awesome stunt ever, and then got reborn and went right back to it. He didn’t even care that there were two of us. He treated us like we had always been friends, complimented our backpacks and lunch boxes, made us feel cool. Showed us how to move and talk. Taught us about confidence.

           “He never took any crap, either. I mean, he didn’t argue or fire off a return insult. He just plowed through everything. Kids making fun of his clothes, teachers giving him a punishment, someone saying a show he liked sucked? Nah. He’d keep on doing what he was doing, or say ‘cool’ and shrug. Most little kids get emotional, you know? Don’t deny it. You cried in first and second grade for some stupid reason. I know Jared did.”

           “Shut up, man… Almost made you cry tonight… When you lost at Street Fighter.”

           “Sure, whatever you say. But all that was just his attitude. That alone isn’t what makes someone cool, or a guy you want to hang out with. He also knew everything about pop culture, all this trivia about every movie and game and TV show. He ate it all up and spat it back out. I don’t know what he didn’t watch, or play, or like. Every time we, or any other kid, was talking about games and shows and movies near him, he’d jump right into a long chat and pretty much make even more new friends. That’s how he made so many and got so popular. He didn’t care how popular some other kid was. Could be the class loser. The minute he realized someone enjoyed just one more thing that he also did, then bam, he shares his favorite episodes and what he knows, and they’re buddies.”

           “But he hung out with us the most,” Jared continued his commentary.

           “Yeah… He brought us together with Arty, Jared, and Zach.”

           “Sadie was our find, though. She was always hanging around the neighborhood.”

           “Yeah, because she likes being outside and she lives in the neighborhood,” Wes stated the obvious. “She didn’t actually seem to like Charlie that much, though.

           “Here are some of Charlie’s greatest hits over the years. He was the first one in school to find out they were building an amusement park in town, and announced it in second grade lunch. He got sent to the principal’s office and rumor has it, cracked so many jokes that he made him laugh and they became buddies and he got off scot-free. Last year, he snuck us into the community pool during a sleepover and we had a pool water gun fight at night, until we had to run away from some guard guy. He brought all five of his dog’s puppies to school and gave them all away before a teacher noticed. He also brought a bowl of marshmallow-candy-macaroni to ‘bring a cookie to share day’. He… well, he did so many other things too, almost every day… But then he kinda…”

           “What?” Jace replied, his thoughts now back on the stories of Charlie after he had begun to drift off and think, I wonder what Dr. Time Traveler is talking about right now?

           “He got a little intense,” Jared said quietly. “Was that what you were gonna say?”

           “Pretty much. His stunts and his, I guess, attention-seeking? It all got crazier and crazier last year. He had to impress everyone more and more. And, I dunno, he didn’t seem very happy. He was never much of a smiler or a laugher, but… I mean, he was still really cool, but… Geez, you got me thinkin’ about stuff I haven’t thought about in a while.”

           “Um, sorry about that?”

           “Anyway, he suddenly started doing pranks and burns on other kids, and lost a few friends. Then eventually he stole a bunch of a candy from a store downtown, and the next day when he was eating the one piece he didn’t drop into a storm drain, his dad and get this—two police officers—came in and took him away forever.”

           Police officers? Unk didn’t mention that… Maybe he just forgot over the years.

           “Haven’t seen him… since…” Jared murmured and seemed to drift off.

           “Wes,” Jace spoke up after a long silence, upon seeing that he was still awake and staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Charlie might’a brought you all together, but it sounds like he was kind of a… troubled kid. Kind of like… he was this bright light to everyone, but he didn’t feel much of anything? Did you ever actually try to get close?”

           Jace was certain he had heard him, but couldn’t remember if he got a response before he fell asleep himself. He couldn’t even be sure that Wes actually did go to sleep.

           He was woken up early in the morning by the sound of Wes packing. In the dawn light, he rolled over and saw him finishing up with his over-capacity backpack. After he slung it over his back, he noticed that Jace was awake, and gave him a wave.

           “Dad’s here,” he whispered. “Last night was pretty good. Hope you come to one of my Saturday sleepovers. They’re even better. See ya.”

           And then he left, with all the others still asleep or at most stirring. Jace stayed in his sleeping bag for a few more minutes, and realized his body was in no mood to go back to sleep. He got up, yawned, and looked around the room.

           He heard an engine noise outside, and went to the window to look through the blinds. Wes’ dad opened the passenger door of his Mercedes and waved his son over. Wes hurried to the car, but his gait didn’t suggest that he actually enjoyed going to him; it was more of a rush to complete the pickup before he got in trouble or something. He soon got inside the car and disappeared, and it took off with screeching tires.

           Seeing this as a chance to learn a few more things about his uncle’s youth, and maybe find some peculiar memory or object that he could bring up with him, Jace looked around again. Almost every object in the room couldn’t simply fulfill a function; it also had to look like it belonged in a young boy’s room. From the bright red metal coatrack, to the M&M dispenser and colorful blue, green, and yellow ceiling fan, Jace thought it likely that Wes shopped with his mom often and handpicked everything.

           He carefully stepped over Colin and Jared, and went over to the corkboard full of scraps and photos. Among the memories was the only thing that Jace thought locked Charlie in time, if it was in fact him in the photograph. A Polaroid, marked by a Sharpie as “First movie with no parents! 1994” that reminded him of those groups of kids in Applejacks commercials, showed the squad as he knew it plus one.

           He didn’t know what movie they were seeing, but they stood in front of the Queen’s marquee, with the titles, The Flintstones, The Crow, and Beverly Hills Cop III. Wes, Jared, Arty, Colin, and Zach looked the most excited, all grinning at the camera together. Sadie, a little less thrilled, was next to a shorter boy in sunglasses with a straight face and bright red blazer. As he stared at the photo for a couple minutes, Auntie knocked.

           “Oh, Jason. You’re up,” she said and sipped her coffee. “Your dad’s here already. Usually the boys aren’t picked up before ten. Do you have a busy day ahead?”

           He honestly didn’t know, so he shrugged. It was surprising, as his uncle rarely even got up in the morning. And this was first thing. He must have had some reason to be here so early. He supposed it didn’t really matter, and he grabbed his backpack.

           He headed downstairs, met Auntie’s wave with a friendly one of his own, looked down and acknowledged Tiger old-dog sleeping by the door, and hustled out to the car.

           “Have a… good time?” Wes asked tiredly.

           But it wasn’t just that he was sleepy; Jace was quick to notice that the hands on the steering wheel were trembling lightly. It looked like he hadn’t slept all night.

           “You okay?” Jace asked, tossing his backpack into the back.

           “Yeeeah… not really. But never mind. How’d it go? Didn’t say anything too stupid for our sakes, right? Who, uh… who won the most games?”

           “Jared and you mostly. It was actually a good sleepover. Best I’ve had in a while. Even though they kept making jokes about Dad. Unk, you never told me about Tiger.”

           “T-Tiger? Tiger… Oh. My old dog, yeah. Oh, geez, he must be around fifteen. Yeah. He was a good boy. Glad he’s still around… you know, for now.”

           “Did you sleep, or did you binge some show all night or something?”

           Wes reacted to the question slowly, and at first only chuckled. He shook his head, started the engine, and began to drive. “I didn’t get to sleep, no. Spent most of the night watching the weird late-night television, infomercials mostly.”

           “Um, wow. Okay. Did something spook you? Why are you here so early?”

           “Just wanted us back together again… Jace, how about we spend the night at a motel? That okay with ya? After I get some sleep, we’ll hang out the rest of the day.”

           “All right, if that’s what you want to do…” He looked out the window at the passing neighborhood for a bit before speaking up again. “I saw a few minutes of a weird local show last night. Quantum something. Made by a guy named Corathine. He was talking about time travel. Think he’s worth researching? You heard of him?”

           They stopped at a stop sign, the early morning suburban streets empty. Wes sat there and thought as the idle engine chugged. He then gazed at Jace with an unsettling stare, the darkness under his eyes prominent. He had never looked so tired or perturbed.

           “I did a little research last night, yeah. Malcolm Corathine disappeared in 1992.”

           Weird, Jace thought, but it looks like that isn’t the only thing that’s bothering him.