s1.e3

Bullet Water

           Desert Tree was the largest residential project in Royal Valley. The neighborhood was built up from the flats just outside the oasis city in the 1960s, and its emphasis on modern irrigation meant that it was surrounded by canals, with artificial ponds holding the water that kept shade-giving trees hydrated. Most grew well after being planted, and blocked out enough sunlight to keep the streets from egg-frying temperatures—and also made the community look more like a New England district than one in a desert climate.

           In a big village with a few thousand houses, two grade schools that emphasized its youthful population, and pride around its mastery over H2O usage, it was no surprise that water guns and balloons were a common sight, along with above ground pools, Slip N Slides, or failing those, arrays of sprinklers that could fill entire roads with a faint layer of mist on the hottest days. It was the super-suburb where Wes had gone to school and grown up with his friends. Similarly, Jace went to the same school, but “lost” his friends.

           Under the 5:23 dropping sun, all variety of bugs made a ruckus as the power lines buzzed and a group of kids got together for an hour-long game of water-based combat. There were six of them, and they had gathered in front of one of the few mock-adobe style houses on the block. For now, they chatted to each other while the one black boy of the group checked his watch or adjusted his glasses every ten seconds or so.

           “Here.” Wes handed Jace the new binoculars as they watched at a distance from their car, parked on the street several houses away. “It starts at 5:30 sharp. The kid with the watch is our timekeeper; keeps it set to the time of his satellite TV. He’s organized.”

           “Cool, but won’t the people who live here be coming home from work?” Jace asked. “We’re sitting in front of someone’s driveway.”

           “Nah, this is the Feldlitz place. They’re a nice old German couple who vacation back in Deutschland in the summer.”

           Wes reached back and grabbed his attaché case, opened it at an angle so that only he could see the contents, and quickly closed it again before Jace could steal a glance. He revealed his own binoculars, and dusted off their lenses as Jace tried out his pair.

           “Are we just going to follow them around in the car?” Jace asked.

           “No, that’s too conspicuous. We keep our distance and watch the game without risking a change in its outcome. Then we’ll get dinner.”

           “Did you… do this a lot last time?”

           “On a few occasions. For no other reason than to relive some great matches.”

           “How do you play?” Jace wondered as he focused on each of the six faces for a moment. “Do you just run around shooting each other with water?”

           “There are rules. It’s freeze tag, first off. But if we managed to get four other kids roped in so it’s five against five—then we’d do capture the flag. We had three blocks to choose from, our arenas. It turned out that in my circle of buds over there, we all shared a block with someone else. Our houses were bases. That adobe is where Colin Robinson lives. He’s the shrimpy lad at the end, with the big glasses he just got at the start of fifth grade. He was my right-hand man, best friend since preschool. He’s smart, and pretty easy-going. Jared Reiner lives on the other side of that block, and, ah…”

           Wes nudged Jace’s binoculars over to the kid crossing his arms, who had dark brown hair with a cowlick, and wore a beat-up old Anaheim Angels jersey.

           “That guy. Ugh, what can I say about him? I dunno how much you can relate, but he’s one of those friends that you think is really cool to hang out with, only you’re too young at first to realize what he really thinks about you in return. He’s already a jerk by this point. I just didn’t want to accept it yet. We eventually have a falling out.”

           Jace went over to the taller boy currently laughing, maybe sharing a joke with the younger Wes. “Who’s the one in the sweet-looking shades?”

           “That is Zach Pentino. He became the full-time cool king of fifth grade, what with ol’ Charlie gone. He kept me in second place. He’s still officially part of our crew or whatever you wanna call it, but he put in the fewest hours because of his busy schedule. Guy was always a party animal, even at ten. Knew the streets, led our mall runs…

           “Anyway, by middle school he actually had ‘contacts’ and was the first to get all the hot new intel—the happenings. And in college, he was setting up backyard keggers. Yeah, Zach was pretty awesome.” Wes then shoved Jace’s binoculars down and looked him straight in the eye very seriously for a moment. “But don’t become a Zach.”

           Jace rolled his eyes and replied, “And the one keeping track of the time?”

           “Arthur, or Arty Teller. The moral compass of our group. Reserved, friendly, always there to back you up. Had a thing for photography. Went through a disposable about once a week; recorded a lot of the moments we all shared. Funnily enough, he was also the best at forming insults to get back at kids who made fun of him, or us.”

           Jace forgot who the last kid was, so he looked through his magnified peepers and re-found the child in overalls, whose blond hair was popping out from under their forward-facing blue baseball cap adorned with a smiley face.

           “Guess that just leaves the one in the denim overalls. What’s his name?”

           “Jace. That’s not a boy. Look again, and notice the pigtails.”

           Surprised, he lowered the binoculars and turned to his uncle. “Huh? Really?”

           “She’s not even a tomboy. That’s Sadie Lorraine. We grew up five houses apart. She didn’t always hang out with us either, but man, she tied us together. At least, for as long as possible. There were times when we kind of stupidly ‘competed’ over her, sure, but most days, we accepted her as just a part of the group. She didn’t need to act tough or fight for anything, didn’t mind gross stuff. She’s altogether cool, really. There were a couple of other girls she hung out with, too, who I’m sure we’ll see later.

           “But, yeah. Me, Jared, Arthur, and Colin—we were the mainstays. You know, the ones who rarely did anything apart. But Zach and Sadie made us whole. Man, do I miss them. Or at least the way they used to be. Jared, not as much.”

           “Don’t you talk to them anymore?” Jace asked. “Like on Facebook?”

           “Eh, well. Things do change over the years. Oh! It’s starting. Time to move.”

           They got out of the car as the six broke into two teams, with Arthur and Zach on Young Wes’ squad. Those three ran off to the east, while the others went west, leaving what Jace thought was supposed to be one of the bases undefended.

           “We have two minutes to get into position,” Wes explained. “We’re supposed to get as far away as possible from either home base. I think we should tail Little Me.”

           After arriving at the sidewalk on the block across the street, where the two tagged behind and parallel to the group they were following, Jace suggested, “I think we should have a nickname for your younger self, or things will get confusing.”

           “Hm. Good point. I didn’t really think about that when it was only me here, sometimes checking in on… me. We could just call him my full name, that I don’t like.”

           “Wesley? I dunno, it’s still your name. What about… West?”

           “God no. I experimented with calling myself West in high school. It was a disaster,” he huffed as they tried to keep up with the nearby running children.

           “Then how about Wessy? Yuck… That’s horrible, too.”

           “Wessy? Mom called me that. Wessy… It’s demeaning, but let’s try it for now.”

           Wessy’s team turned the corner at the intersection where four blocks converged and slowed their pace. Jace followed Wes across another street, to a curb where they got a decent look at two entire sides of the “Colin-Jared Arena.” Team Wessy stopped near someone’s yard, its house also empty, and ran down the clock near a sycamore as they strategized—and performed walkie-talkie checks, using units Jace hadn’t noticed before.

           “Whoa. You guys took this seriously,” he remarked.

           The three then pumped their weapons and checked their sidearms, which were traditional water pistols. Wessy’s new rifle was the largest. Arthur, who had a purple and blue gun with three yellow tanks, seemed to be looking at it a tad enviously. But it didn’t impress Zach, who rocked a pair of classic green and yellow Super Soaker 50s. He was the only one to dual wield, though both guns were small compared to the newer models.

           “Yeah, we did,” Wes replied. “But, keep in mind, we started doing these games in second grade. Three years is an eternity when you’re young. We had time to evolve.”

           “Did any of you join the military?” Jace asked flatly and rhetorically.

           Arthur checked his stopwatch with one hand held up. The moment time hit zero and the game officially began, Wessy signaled for him to go back in the direction of the opposition’s base, and for Zach to accompany himself farther down the block.

           “Guess I was the captain of this game,” Wes explained, the two on the move again to keep up with the pair. “We switched around, of course. So, freeze tag. Our rules were, if you got hit on the leg or arm, you had to act like it was blown off. That could get pretty dramatic,” he said with a smile. “And a bit violent, looking back.

           “A leg meant you either fell to the ground or started hopping around on the other—usually we chose to simply drop. If your gun arm is hit, you have to let go of your Soaker. But you can pick it up with your other arm and shoot back, if you get the chance. Head or torso, and you’re down right away. Until you get, well… healed?”

           “And if you’re dead, do you just stop moving?”

           “You can sit. We also have a shade mercy clause, so if you’re in direct sunlight, you can at least crawl under the nearest tree or something as you wait for a teammate to touch and unfreeze you. But trying to rescue someone also means you can be lured into a trap. Oh, and you radio in if you go down, but you’re not allowed to give your pals a location or anything else, and you can’t talk again until you’re revived.”

           “But since water is clear, aren’t there arguments about if you got hit or not?”

           “We figured that out a long time ago.”

           They stopped and watched Wessy and Zach sneak over to the side of a house, look over the fence into the backyard, nod to each other, and go in through the gate.

           “This is where it gets more strategic. See, we use food coloring in our water. Red or blue. So, we can’t just refill at any outdoor faucet we come across.”

           “And I hope that’s one of your houses they just snuck into…”

           “It’s Jared’s place. But right now, it’s the other team’s base. Each one has a giant bucket filled with its team’s colored water, so pretty much unlimited ammo. But it’s easy to get snuck up on while you’re refilling, and you can’t move the bucket.”

           “But why’d you go into their base at the start, when no one needs refills yet?”

           “Probably just cutting through to the other side of the block, for some tactical play. C’mon, let’s head back and see if we can catch any cool moments.”

           “Too bad we don’t have a drone. We could fly overhead, see the whole thing.”

           “The kids would probably think aliens or the government were invading if they saw it,” Wes said as they made their return trek. “Also, prior to the game, we get to hide three refill caches per team around the block—soda bottles with our water in it. If you find someone else’s, you can drain it and leave the bottle there to insult them.”

           “I hope you didn’t leave garbage all over the neighborhood.”

           “We weren’t monsters. And society pounded an environmental message into us.”

           “Right… but blowing your friends’ limbs off was okay.”

           “Anyway, the refills gave you something to think about, because you didn’t know how long a game would be. Sometimes they were short; other times, they went on for so long that we only got one round in a day. Do you go for the supplies as soon as you need it, or save it for another match—that might not even come?”

           “You ever try including water balloon grenades?”

           “Yeah. They made things too complicated. The literal splash damage was a pain to figure out, if water got on your legs or whatever. Better off relying on a good shot.”

           “But don’t water guns not shoot that far?”

           “Not after the first couple of blasts, so gunfights often turn into scrambling and dancing around one another. But other times, you do get a nice, silent kill at a distance.”

           A second after they rounded the corner, a shouting match broke out down the road. They hurried across the street and took cover behind a car, where they watched Wessy and Zach emerge from a gap in the wooden fences between several houses, and flank Colin and Jared as they were walking cautiously on the sidewalk. By the time the two saw them coming, they were already in range of their attackers’ water jets.

           Spraying from both teams ensued, but Colin was down the moment he had reacted. Jared managed to evade the streams for a few seconds as he fired back and dodged to the left, but trapped himself in a bush. Wessy and Zach hit him much more than they needed to, just for their personal enjoyment, and then ran off laughing.

           Jared yelled at them, stepped out of the foliage, and sat on the ground near Colin, also dismayed. Arthur had been charging down from the other side of the block to assist his team, but after they took care of the enemy themselves, he stopped and caught his breath. Before his comrades ran off, they signaled to him to guard the prisoners.

           “Guess this will be a short one,” Jace surmised.

           “Maybe not.” Wes kept his binoculars up. “I think I’m starting to remember it.”

           Jace went back to watching. After about a minute had passed, Arthur heard his walkie-talkie go off, and raised it to speak into it. He shook his head as he might have answered a question pertaining to whether or not he’d seen Sadie.

           Then, while his guard was down and he was not at all expecting it, she stealthily crept out from behind the hedges of a neighbor’s yard, only a few meters away from her fallen allies—and not even they knew she was coming.

           Smirking and quite confident, she got in very close, took out her service pistol, and then did a little whistle. Arthur flipped around and got sprayed in the face.

           “Ugh, Sadie!” he audibly called out, and she snickered.

           She gleefully tapped her teammates on their heads, and the three ran off as Arty wiped his glasses and reported in that he was down. Just like that, the game had shifted from one squad being on the brink of defeat, to them facing only two opponents.

           “The guys didn’t call it in when they got tagged,” Jace observed. “Sadie’s walkie-talkie would’ve gone off and given away her hiding place.”

           “She was the best at sneaking around,” Wes explained. “Sometimes, she’d even go radio silent and strike off on her own. She could turn the opposing team into a nervous wreck because they’d never know when or where she’d pop up.”

           From there, the game became a constant back and forth. Wes and Jace got a workout as they tried to catch tidbits and highlights, while making sure to keep their distance from those playing and other non-involved adults walking in the neighborhood. They had a few close calls when one of the kids might’ve noticed them, but they always managed to duck into cover or hide behind trash bins before being seen in full.

           The single round stretched into ten minutes, then fifteen, and then forty-five. The combatants were clearly not used to going this long without a break, and aside from sweat stains, they’d also acquired scuff marks and dirty hands, knees, and faces. Ammo bottles—which had been hidden in a mailbox, Colin’s treehouse, the back of Jared’s dad’s pickup truck, and inside a curbside junk pile—had each been used up. All three players on a team worked together at times; once, everyone was split up. Bases were temporarily held and then reclaimed. And the balance of power always shifted quickly.

           Each trio often whittled down the other to a single player, only to have the last survivor stage a dramatic or sneaky rescue, by getting past those searching for them and unfreezing a friend. There were many paths that could be used to cross the battlefield, and every now and then, a kid would risk it and cut through a lawn—sometimes even when the owner’s family was having dinner feet away. Desperation was setting in.

           “It’s almost 6:30,” Jace said, perspiring heavily himself by this point. “What happens if no team wins? Does it go into overtime or something?”

           “No, it’s a draw. But this game does end. Pretty sure my team’s about to take it.”

           Across the street, Jared, Colin, and Sadie were on the corner, splitting the last drops of their final red-water soda bottle. Once emptied, Colin twisted it into some dirt where it stood upright and was easily noticeable. As they strategized, Jace saw the blue team coming in behind them, with a lot of distance to cover and their enemy not yet in their line of sight. The reds split up, with only Jared going in the direction of the blues.

           “Let’s keep on Jared,” Wes said. “This could be an interesting confrontation.”

           They kept parallel to Jared and watched as he clearly noticed the blues coming to him. But the blues’ eyes were mostly on their sides and backs, so he managed to get out of their path before they saw him by running up into a yard that was elevated and on a shallow hill, two houses away from his own. He then went to the side of the house and peeked over to watch the enemy approach. He held up his gun to recheck its supply, and even at a distance, it was easy to see the dark water through the translucent canister.

           “He’s barely got any water left,” Wes said. “He should be running away instead of hanging around to maybe take on all three of us. What’s he planning?”

           The two watched him suddenly kneel down near the house’s outdoor faucet, look around the area, then unscrew his tank and fill it up to capacity. With the blues almost in his range, he took a small object out from his pocket and shook it above the tank’s opening. They couldn’t see what he was putting in—but it was obvious enough.

           “That cheat,” Wes muttered. “He brought his own food coloring.”

           “Wow. That’s lame. Did he ever get busted?”

           “No. No, not once! I mean, if any of us were gonna do it, it’d be him, but still… Damn it, Jace. He probably bent a lot of games in his favor over the years.”

           “Does getting a free refill really matter that much, though?”

           “If he was doing that, he could’ve been doing a bunch of other crap, too. Maybe he even monitored the other walkie-talkie channels for all I know. Son of a…”

           Under the dusk sky and looking to end a long game, the blues didn’t see Jared in time when he came running out, reinvigorated. Before they could fully react, Zach and Arthur were hit. Wessy backpedaled a few feet before messily returning fire and running away. As Jared laughed and gave chase, Colin came in on the other side, after bursting through the cheater’s backyard gate and cutting through the block’s only vacant lot.

           Wes muttered, “I remember this. Something… strange is about to happen.”

           About to be caught in a pincer attack and unable to go past the arena’s boundary and into the road, Wessy made a sharp left and went into the nearest side yard—the one that ran along Jared’s house. Jared signaled his team to pursue from the opposite end, so that they could clamp down on Wessy somewhere in the backyard of his home turf.

           “Is this game over?” Jace asked. “You’re about to get hit from two sides.”

           “I was starting to think we actually won,” Wes grumbled. “I guess not.”

           “But you could still win, right? Maybe your memory is a little off.”

           “Nah, the more I think about it, the more I realize I’m about to get a face full of Red Number 40. But what does it matter? It’s just a game. From a quarter-century ago.”

           “Well,” Jace shrugged, “that was fun. Do you wanna go eat now?”

           Wes looked down at him, blinked, and then ordered, “Go in there and screw things up for Jared anyway you can. Just surprise or distract him, or something.”

           “Seriously? Why do you need to win a squirt gun battle no one remembers?”

           “Because Jared deserves it. And I want Wessy to win, regardless of the risk.”

           “Didn’t you just tell me to not be vindictive?”

           “He’s a cheater, and it’s a chance to take him down a peg. Go, make us win!”

           Wes shoved Jace into the empty road. Mumbling under his breath, he set off.

           “This is stupid,” he told himself, his fists clenched as he walked. “Pointless.”

           Upon hearing voices, he slowed and crept up to the tall wooden fence, its smaller side gate cracked opened. He peeked in and saw Jared, advancing cautiously with Soaker ready. Near him, on the brick under a shaded patio, was his team’s bucket of red water.

           “I don’t see Wes,” Colin’s voice shouted out from the far, unseen side of the yard. “Do you think he could’ve climbed over the fence?”

           Jared yelled, “You kidding? I can’t even do that, and I’ve tried lots of times.”

           “Then he’s gotta be somewhere back here.”

           “Yeah. Now be quiet and listen for him. He’s hiding.”

           “Where the heck did Sadie go? She can do crazy things in these long games.”

           Jared’s backyard consisted of the patio, a playground fort, some short trees, a row of thick thorn bushes along the left fence, and a square artificial lily pad-filled pond contained by mortar and stone. As the boys converged near the center, Jace looked for a way to distract them without being seen. Their bucket seemed to be the best option.

           Once Jared and Colin were a distance away, Jace swallowed, tried to let go of his fear and spite for his uncle, and entered the yard. He sidled along the side of the house, then looked around the corner to see the two back-to-back near the pond, keeping an eye out, but not in Jace’s direction. Right past the corner was their half-filled bucket.

           Jace grabbed a sturdy branch and poked at it until he hooked the handle. Using both hands, he raised the branch and pulled at the thin curved metal. Just as Jared and Colin turned around together in reaction to the sound of a critter running on the roof, Jace yanked at the bucket to knock it over, spilling its contents onto the bricks.

           He ducked back behind the wall as Jared exclaimed, “The heck?”

           Hearing them coming to investigate, Jace made a hasty retreat. But he stopped before going too far, choosing to slip back through the gate and hide on the other side of the fence for a moment. While there, he noticed a small hole in one of the pickets.

           “Not cool,” Jared grumbled angrily.

           Jace looked through the hole as he and Colin investigated the spill. Before they could try to find the perpetrator and get revenge, their target suddenly jumped out from the thorn bushes. They heard him emerge but were both hit before they could react.

           “Got ya,” Wessy said, ignoring the scratches now all over his face and arms.

           “Really?” Colin moaned and swiveled around. “You hid in there? Are you crazy?”

           “It worked, didn’t it?” He navigated his way out of the bushes. “Ow, ow…”

           “This is bull, Wes,” Jared snapped. “One of your tagged buddies decided to cheat and break the rules. Or was that part of your genius plan?”

           “What’d’ya mean? I didn’t tell either of them to do that.”

           “Look at our bucket! Arty or Zach must’ve snuck over and kicked it!”

           Wessy investigated as Jared pointed at the now glitched crime scene and replied, “Wouldn’t it be empty if that happened? I dunno what you’re playing at.”

           “It is empty!” Jared argued and looked down. “See? Uh, wait. H-huh?”

           “All the water got dumped out!” Colin insisted. “Really! But… now it’s…”

           “You both have been in the sun for too long,” Wessy sighed and gave the red team’s reset bucket a foot nudge. “Like anyone would bother cheating in these games.”

           “We know what we saw, man,” Jared retorted. “Something weird is going on.”

           “Yeah, yeah. How ’bout you tell me where Sadie is so we can get this over with?”

           Jace caught sight of her sneaking up from behind, looking very different than the other three. She was soaked, her hair dripping from under her cap, also drenched. A pair of pink swimming goggles were slid up above her eyes, and with a determined grin, she chewed on a bundle of three plastic straws kept together with a rubber band. To keep her shoes from making loud squishes, she was walking very slowly on her tiptoes.

           “Hi, Wes,” she said cheekily.

           “What the…” Wessy mouthed and spun around as quickly as he could.

           It wasn’t fast enough. She hit him with five rapid-fire shots, spraying red fluid everywhere that almost glistened like actual blood. She then raised her rifle in victory.

           “What?!” Jared burst out laughing. “You actually did it, Sadie? You’re crazy!”

           “What she did?” Wessy complained. “What about what you guys did? Distracting me with your dumb magic bucket. I can’t believe I fell for something so lame.”

           “Don’t be mad, Wes. It was a good game. A legendary one!” Sadie exclaimed.

           Colin added, “And after Sadie actually went through with her pond maneuver, maybe we kind of deserve to win? It was really close, though, you know.”

           “Whatever,” Wessy grumbled.

           “You didn’t, uh, hide in the water with my walkie-talkie, did you?” Jared asked.

           “I hid it under a flower pot by the side of the pond,” she assured him.

           Wessy spoke into his own unit, “Game’s over, guys. You can head home.”

           Arthur’s voice replied, “What happened? Did we lose? Aw. I thought we had it.”

           “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I gotta get back for dinner.”

           With the match done, Jace had to consider if he actually caused the loss.

           He watched a second longer, noticing in full all of the little bruises, scratches, and both grass and food coloring stains on the four pals, though much of Sadie’s had been washed off. Never had he expected that someone would hide underwater.

           Still unsure if he screwed up or only witnessed fate, he backed away—and then stepped on a twig. Positive he had just alerted them, he turned and ran. Jace didn’t see it, but Jared checked out the sound. He looked out from the gate just in time to see a kid in blue from behind fleeing the scene, and was instantly suspicious of him.

           Jace returned to his watchful uncle, hiding behind a tree on the other side of the street, and caught his breath. Wes looked at him anxiously.

           Impatient for news, Wes asked after several seconds, “Well? How’d it go?”

           Jace shook his head. “You… came out of the thorn bushes, but then, uh, Sadie got you from behind. I can’t believe she hid in the pond back there.”

           “The pond maneuver! Ah, crap!” Wes smacked his forehead. “The day she went aquatic… Now I remember. But I won that! Yeah, I see her straws poking out, walk over to investigate, and I’m shocked to see her waiting in there on her back. She raises her gun from the water to shoot, but I dodge. Then I pluck the straws right out of her mouth, which forces her to come up, and tag her while still very confused. It was beautiful.”

           “Well. I guess now it doesn’t happen that way. I… I think it’s my fault.”

           “Eh. It’s mine; I should’ve just left it alone. I was going to tell you all excited-like about how we taught ‘Bullet Water’ to some other kids in the neighborhood, but… let’s eat dinner instead. It’s okay. Honestly, I originally felt a little bad that Sadie didn’t win.”

           As the exhausted pair returned to the car, someone else kept their eyes on them. Up in the area’s tallest tree, a lean figure in all black watched, still and emotionless.

           Dinner was had at the Pig Pit, a classic Americana roadside diner that still existed in the present. It was a place of grease and huge drinks, so Jace’s mom never took him there. But thanks to his uncle, he’d ordered off the kids’ menu about a dozen times over the years. Like the sports décor and memorabilia on the walls, the food was mostly the same. Between bites of his grilled chicken sandwich, easily the healthiest available item, Jace shared what transpired in Jared’s backyard with Wes, who remained disappointed.

           “Yep…” Wes sipped on the day’s third soda, this one in a large white styrofoam cup. “I remember it vividly now. Sadie may have hidden away in that scummy old pond, but to my credit, I sacrificed some skin in those thorn bushes and staged a comeback.” He rubbed an arm as he recalled the war wounds. “Well, I did in another timeline.”

           Jace shrugged. “Guess we shouldn’t mess with the past anymore.”

           “I, uh, wasn’t planning to, originally. I just kind of acted on impulse back there. And I definitely shouldn’t be messing with my younger self. Heh, yeah…”

           “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

           “I’m serious. No more interacting with me or my friends. Way too dangerous.”

           “Yeah, okay. Sure. And how much of that did you do on your first visit?”

           Wes lazily swirled a double-fried French fry in his ketchup and answered, “None at all. I only observed Wessy a few times. I was more interested in the things going on in the city around me, and finding out what those ‘other cameras’ I mentioned had seen. Do you remember when you came over and watched The Truman Show?”

           Jace swallowed a chunk of meat and nodded.

           “I’m trying to make a point by bringing it up. You ever wonder what was going on in the rest of the town, while people at home were watching Jim Carrey do stuff? I mean, things are always happening, around the whole world, and there are so many little events you don’t see because you weren’t in the right place at the right time. And unlike in the movie, it’s guaranteed that there are millions of storylines you’re missing out on.”

           “Maybe, but how many are actually interesting? Most days are pretty boring.”

           “Buddy, you’re eleven. You’re not supposed to have any boring days yet.”

           Jace ignored the comment and asked, “Are you sure there isn’t some duplicate version of you running around right now?”

           “I really don’t think so. If that were the case, we’d have seen another, or a whole bunch of Weses in that guy’s kitchen the moment we stepped through.”

           “Does that mean there can only be one time traveler per person at the same time? And I really do worry about what’ll happen if you went back without me.”

           “Again with the questions, that I don’t have answers to. Stop worrying so much. We’re not here to experiment with time, or even find out how any of this works.”

           “But that’s what I’m interested in, more than all your nostalgic stuff.”

           “There’s plenty of awesome things to do! I have big plans for us. To start with, right after we’re done here, we’re gonna see a movie at the old theater.”

           “What movie?”

           “It’s a surprise.”

           “And are you planning on having another soda there?” Jace eyed his current one.

           Wes shrugged. “Yeah, probably. I’m on something of a taste tour.”

           “Uncle Wesley! Four in a day? That’s crazy. I wanted to say something back at Target, but I thought you’d at least stop there! Even if they were all diet, drinking that much has to be bad for you. Mom doesn’t have more than one a week.”

           “Good for her. Soda’s never really affected me. I just like some bubbly.”

           “You could get diabetes. You’re lucky the habit hasn’t made you fat yet.”

           Wes slurped up the last of his beverage and looked down the empty straw. “I’ve always wondered why it hasn’t. Must be my metabolism or something.”

           “Can’t you just drink something else? What’s wrong with water sometimes?”

           “Because water is really boring?”

           “Then add some flavor drops to it.”

           “They don’t really help enough, and I don’t like the aftertaste.”

           “Then try them with seltzer water?”

           “Ugh, yuck. I hate any kind of sparkling water. Stuff’s like drinking liquid salt.”

           Growing agitated, Jace continued, “So why not juice or tea?”

           “Juice has sugar anyway. Tea’s too bitter. I know adults are supposed to like bitter things, but that hasn’t kicked in for me yet. I drink milk when I’m at home. I don’t really go for canned or bottled soda, but a good old fountain drink? I can’t pass that up.”

           “And you like it enough to drink it all day?”

           “Jace, did your mom tell you to bug me about this at some point?”

           “No. But she’s talked about it before.” Jace finished his sandwich and took a breath. “She said you drank an entire liter on a dare at one of your birthday parties.”

           “That was awesome. And it wasn’t even regular stuff. It was a bottle of Surge—it’s like a super soda. I got a bunch of them for my thirteenth. What a hardcore party.”

           “Uncle Wes… You got problems of your own.”

           “I can’t help it, okay? Sheesh, is this that what you wanted to hear? I don’t like talking about my failures, bud. So maybe I have an addiction. Is it really my fault? I gave into peer pressure when I was young. We all drank the junk, all the time back then; it was like our fuel. And I never had the willpower to wean myself off of it.”

           “But doesn’t it keep you buzzed all night? What did you do with all that energy?”

           “Video games. Movies. You know, the obvious stuff. It kept me productive and awake. ‘Life moves pretty fast,’ as Ferris Bueller put it. I didn’t want to miss a second, and the kid who stayed awake the longest, got to eat up the most pop culture.”

           “Oh, no… How much sleep did you get each night when you were my age?”

           The waitress came by and dropped off the check. Wes looked at it and started digging around in his wallet for tipping change as he ran some calculations in his head.

           “I dunno, um… Five hours, usually?” he reluctantly replied.

           Jace seemed disappointed, yet pleased. “At least you admit you have a problem. Mom always says she’s proud of me when I let something out during our talks.”

           “Great. You’re expecting me to tell you all about myself, aren’t you? What do you want to learn next? What deeply seeded flaws should I expose in the Pig Pit?”

           “She thinks a lot of your issues are right on the surface.”

           “And that’s our cue to leave. Time to see a movie! Come on,” Wes said and grabbed Jace by the arm, an aggressive action that wiped away his smug look.

           “Just… don’t have another drink at the movie. Promise?” Jace asked as his uncle paid the bill at the register and three members of a biker gang passed by in search of grub. “You can break the industry’s hold on you. I believe in you!”

           Wes rolled his eyes and looked down at Jace, offering him a reassuring thumbs-up. He saw so much of his half-sister in him, which came to little surprise as she pretty much raised him on her own. He had to admit that he could be an endearing child.

           “Jace. The line between kid and adult blurs a bit when you’re around me.”

           “Someone has to get you to act your age on this trip.”

           “Ha, haha. You can try, little man.”

           Minutes later, Wes pulled into a parallel spot close to the small, community-run cinema. Downtown had quieted for the night, but The Queen was an oasis of light and activity. There were a number of movie posters on the exterior walls, although its old marquee, surrounded by warm incandescent bulbs, only listed four flicks.

           “There she is,” Wes said as he leaned on his car and faced the theater across the empty street. “The old Queen. The one I grew up with. I started going to the megaplex by the highway like everyone else when it opens next month, but every now and then, I’d come back and see something here. Until it closed in 2005. Sad day.”

           “The building looks so small,” Jace observed, the venue’s façade no wider than the hair salon and restaurant that flanked it. “How did they fit even just four in there?”

           “She’s longer than she is wide, but, yeah, the theaters are a little cozy. In a good way. I think there used to be two of them. Then they split both in half so they could have more showings. So, wanna take a guess at which one we’re seeing?”

           “Okay. Uh, well… I’ve seen Pocahontas, so it’s probably not that one.”

           “I know you’ve watched pretty much all the Disney movies. So that’s one down.”

           “Judge Dredd is rated R, right? Mom always gets mad when you show me those.”

           “Heh, she does. But it’s pretty much a PG-13 by 2020 standards. Also, it’s a total cheesefest. Maybe we’ll see Mr. Stallone shout ‘I am the law’ sometime, just not tonight.”

           “Then I guess we’re seeing Apollo 13. At least that’s educational.”

           Jace looked at Wes for a confirmation, but he only got a smirk in return. He looked at the marquee again, back at his uncle, and dropped his shoulders.

           “One more guess, pal. I think you’ll get it this time,” Wes said.

           “Oh, come on! We are not seeing Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. They’re a joke!”

           “Yep. The original one. Not that remake thing from 2017.”

           “No, for real! They’re a crazy meme right now back in our time. Everyone keeps posting GIFs of the show, and it’s still funny because of how stupid it looked!”

           “I know. That’s kind of what got me inspired to see it with you.”

           “Uh-huh…” Jace let out his biggest sigh of the day yet. “And then you’ll lecture me afterwards, telling me how great it was, and how I should’ve taken it seriously.”

           “Nope. I’m going to let you in on a little secret about entertainment.”

           “What, that eighty percent of it is crap?”

           “Wow. Jaded.” They began walking across the street. “I’ll tell you as we go in.”

           After Wes got tickets at the box office, they went into the lobby, which had the furnishings of a theater from the golden age. Gilded pillars held up a ceiling with a mural depicting films made before the 1970s—which only made seeing an outrageous, modern flick about teenage ninjas in bright spandex fighting people in alien suits feel a bit out of place. Most of the moviegoers at this hour were of the older set or teens; the latter, Wes mentioned, would all but disappear once the big chain theater opened a few miles away.

           He explained, “You can watch bad movies and TV, and still get enjoyment out of it. Now, I certainly wasn’t aware of this at your age, and I didn’t really know any other kids who understood it, either. Not that we have great taste to begin with when we’re young, mostly because we don’t know any better and just want to be entertained, right? So, for you, it’s not so much about what’s well-made or ‘crap.’ It’s about what appeals to you and what doesn’t. And it’s not a surprise that Power Rangers isn’t your cup of tea.”

           “Why’s that?”

           “Because I didn’t like the franchise, either.” Wes handed the tickets to the taker, and the two started their trek to the last screen in the back, passing by more posters on the way. “I had a high tolerance for most media, but the Rangers, I never ‘got.’ It all just seemed overwhelmingly silly to me. I was eight when the show first aired, so maybe I was a little too old for it, but I’m still not sure why they were so popular. Even Arthur and Colin fell victim and bought backpacks they only used in fourth grade.”

           “Does that mean this is actually a movie you haven’t seen?”

           “Only ever saw the trailers. So, let’s both experience it for the first time and make fun of it. We’ll end the day with some cheap laughs. Sound good to you?”

           “You want me to laugh… at a movie I won’t like? I’d rather just not watch it.”

           Once inside the theater itself, which only had about a hundred seats over ten rows, they stopped and looked around for good, clean spots before the previews started. There were three other families inside, all five of the present children being boys.

           “My dad’s TV is almost the size of this screen,” Jace observed. “And why aren’t there stairs? What happens if a tall guy sits in front of you?”

           “Stadium seating is still kind of just starting. But it’s not a problem when there aren’t many people around, anyway. So where do you want to sit?”

           Jace pointed to the second row from the back, far from the other patrons.

           “Ugh. Gross. The floor’s all sticky,” he moaned as they went to the center.

           “Of course it is. Movie theaters haven’t started hiring custodians yet.”

           “Is that really true?”

           Wes shrugged. “It always seemed that way to me when I came here.”

           Once they were in their brown seats, Jace asked, “Why are we seeing this again?”

           “Okay. A good, bad movie is a rare gem. One, maybe two come out a year. It’s an art to get everything just wrong, and when someone tries to make a bad one, it usually doesn’t work. There has to be real yet misguided passion involved, genuine effort. That’s how you get Birdemic, or Troll 2, or The Room. You want a mix of you both laughing at the film, and with the creators and actors. It’s tough to pin down, but if you find something that humors you and your drunken friends, and has you quoting lines, that’s a win.”

           “But I don’t even like it when people talk during movies.”

           “It depends on the intention and setting. There’s nothing better than getting with buddies to crack jokes about something like, I don’t know… Miami Connection.”

           “You realize I haven’t heard of any of these movies, right?”

           “Didn’t expect you would. We need to watch some Mystery Science when we get home. Heck, they’re still making new episodes right now. Trust me—when you realize it’s okay to laugh at someone’s hard work, a new world opens up. You learn not to take everything quite so seriously. And you could really use some lessons in that.”

           Jace sunk into his seat and said tiredly, “How bad is this going to be, anyway?”

           “Oh, it’s probably not all that terrible. I’m sure kids who liked the show loved it, and it does what it sets out to do. I doubt’s it’s even close to some of the whoppers I’ve seen. The point is, try to enjoy it, just in a different way. Don’t be so invested.”

           He still didn’t quite get it, but Jace relented and decided to give his uncle’s wacky idea of fun a chance once the lights dimmed and the previews began rolling.

           He noticed something right away as a trailer for Clueless popped up, and asked, “The actual movie will look better than this, right? Like, brighter?”

           “This is just the way projected film looks. And you’ll also see little ovals up in the corner. That’s a signal to the guy in the booth to change reels.”

           “That’s how old projectors worked? Man. So primitive.”

           “It used to be dangerous, too. Celluloid was once really flammable.”

           Remembering the Target teenagers from earlier, Jace grumbled as the first trailer ended, “Pfft. Like I’d want to watch a movie about high school girls.”

           “Hey, don’t dis Clueless. It’s a classic. And, no, I don’t say that about everything.”

           After previews for Free Willy 2 and Toy Story played, the final one, for the sequel to last year’s Ace Ventura, came up. Halfway through it, Jace made another observation.

           “You don’t see many trailers anymore with someone talking over it, huh?”

           “It’s called a voice-over. They used to make them all the time.”

           “I like this guy’s deep voice.”

           “Everyone did! That’s why he got so much work. Uh, what was his name again? Fontaine… Um… Don LaFontaine—that’s the guy. He was awesome. Hey, we should go on a Hollywood studio tour sometime. You like movies, don’t you?”

           Completely done with making plans for the time being, Jace only shrugged.

           As the movie’s opening 20^th Century Fox logo appeared, one of the boys in the theater shouted out a “yay!” that startled his mother. Jace settled deep into his seat, still embarrassed that he was seeing this film. Wes, meanwhile, went into his “blissful movie-watching mode,” in which he simply leaned on his elbow and formed a little smile.

           After the first scene with teens skydiving out of a plane to synth-rock music set the atmosphere, Jace’s impatience with the movie turned into indifference, and then acceptance of the ridiculous story, as Wes snickered and sometimes laughed at what transpired on the screen. Steadily, Jace loosened his grip on his armrests, relaxed, and began to get a better idea of just what his uncle meant when it came to enjoying a movie by watching it with different expectations, and from another angle.

           It took over an hour, but eventually, something finally clicked in Jace’s mind, and his inner voice informed him, “hey, it’s okay to watch this.” For the first time in a while, maybe even since the start of fifth grade, he felt his stress levels drop. He let go of his inhibitions and began to share laughs with his uncle, albeit small ones.

           The two got several looks from the few others in the audience, and at one point one of the kids quietly asked his dad why they were laughing so much, and if he could tell the “rude-o’s” to be quiet. Fortunately, the father seemed disinterested in anything going on in the theater, and wasn’t about to have a confrontation over his son’s heroes.

           Rubber costume monsters, insanely single-minded super villains, snarky dialogue often full of exposition, transformation sequences, and a climactic giant robot battle; by the time the credits were rolling, Jace realized that he had just watched, in essence, a Japanese anime in live action form.

           “I can’t believe you used to see every new movie like that!” he said as they left the theater. “Stereo sound? Dark screen, no stadium seating, no post-credits scenes?”

           “We had what we got. Still beat the heck out of a tiny four-by-three TV.”

           “And the special effects were really cheap. It was like watching the show.”

           “When you’re not looking at millions of ultra-sharp bright pixels, you don’t really need effects to look completely realistic. But anything big budget will still impress. We’ll go to Apollo 13 next, and you’ll see what I mean. I’m glad you started enjoying it.”

           “I’m not sure if ‘enjoying’ is the right word, but I guess I’m starting to see what you mean, about watching stuff just because you can. Or however you put it.”

           “It might be something you have to condition yourself into. I just know that I always had the ability to find entertainment in most anything, in some way.”

           Wes looked at the lobby’s six toy capsule vending machines, filled with junk no kid really needed. In a way, they provided the only “entertainment” for those waiting to see a movie, as there were no arcade cabinets that were typical for theaters.

           Jace watched his uncle take out a quarter from his pocket and hover it over the sticker dispenser, which had Power Rangers selections, but then choose the one with the little googly-eyed rubber finger puppets. After a crank turn, a capsule fell into the slot.

           “A memento, for your first day in ’95,” Wes said, and handed him the red plastic.

           As he tiredly studied the funny-looking monster with flailing arms on his finger while relaxing in bed, Jace processed the day’s events. It still felt as crazy as it did when it began. The previous night, he was in his room, his safe place, raging at an online video game. The next thing he knew, he had leapt through time, gotten shot at, suffered weird temporal anomalies, and witnessed an epic water gun fight. Three versus three, with no lag, trash talk, or whining players complaining through their microphones. And now he was snug under the covers in a chilly hotel room, on a summer evening in 1995.

           With the local news for July 18^th playing on TV, Wes left the bathroom looking sharp. Wearing boxers and his favorite extra-large gray night shirt—the only clothing he had brought from the future, as its text celebrated Royal U.’s graduating class of 2007—he finished drying his hair with a hotel towel and took a seat on the side of his bed.

           “You all worn out after your big day?” he asked Jace.

           “I keep thinking I’ll wake up tomorrow, and this will all be a long, strange dream.”

           “You’re right. You’re not even in my apartment. I just broke into your room, and have been whispering 90s fun facts in your ear while you were sleeping this whole time.”

           “Oh, so you also made up this part where a crazy guy tried to shoot me.”

           “And what’s wrong with a little danger and excitement in a good dream?”

           “Uncle Wes…” Jace turned in his bed to face him as the lottery numbers were read off. “What are we going to do until we go to King Arcade on Saturday?”

           “Plenty. We could always see another movie, like, every night. Oh, but not on Saturday night itself—that’s when we enjoy SNICK. Heard of the big orange couch?”

           “You must’ve told me about Saturday night Nickelodeon a hundred times.”

           “Yeah, sounds right. For me, it was always what the rest of the week led up to.”

           “You’ll just talk about anything from this decade. You’re like a librarian.”

           Wes laughed. “I guess I am sort of a record keeper. I have a good memory and hold onto time as much as I can. You’ve always been pretty observant yourself. By the way, did you give any thought to that talk we had? Did I even make any sense? I know I wouldn’t make a great dad, but I wasn’t joking around when I told you all that stuff.”

           Jace checked his iPhone, charging on the nightstand near him, and saw that it was ready to go for another day. He unplugged it, reached down and got his ear pods from his backpack, stuck them in, and to remember where he came from, played some of the music that he and his contemporaries ate up whenever a new album went live.

           “Hey, I gotta know if what I said was worthless or not. Jace? Best nephew ever?”

           He rolled his eyes and continued to ignore his uncle. For some reason, admitting he was right about anything was always a great challenge for Jace. But Wes could easily find a new trick to pull out and up his effort to win any game, and this time, he dropped to the floor between the beds, got onto his knees, and began to flippantly beg.

           “Jace, please talk to me. I wanted to keep this a surprise, but I found a nice lady in the present and never told anyone about her, and now we’re having twins in a month, and if I can’t be a good father, then my life will have been a complete waste of time. So please, I need you to tell me right now that I’m at least a half-decent, half-uncle to you!”

           “What is your problem?” Jace exclaimed. “You’re still that kid we saw in Target.”

           “Ah… I see how it is. I’ll just have to give Jimmy and Jenny up for adoption.”

           “Maybe you had a point, okay? But I’m still upset about how fifth grade went.”

           “That’s all I wanted to hear!” Wes concluded the act and got to his feet. “And if you were given a second chance to do it over right, would you take it?”

           “No! I never want to go through that again. I’ll try to do what you told me, but first I’m going to sleep. If you’re staying up crazy-late, can you be quiet about it?”

           Wes crossed his arms. “Ya know, you’re assertive with me. That’s cool; I like a challenge. You should use that talent to keep yourself from being pushed around.”

           “No more advice for today,” Jace said, flipped over in bed, turned up the volume on his music, and closed his eyes. “Good night… Uncle ‘Wessy.’”

           Jace woke up to the sound of knocking at his front door. He called out to his mom to answer it. There was no response, so he got out of bed and stumbled over the toys littering his floor. He tried to recall yesterday, which he only remembered as some big adventure with his crazy uncle. But now he was nice and safe again at home.

           The house was empty, although a bowl of cereal was waiting on the couch. He ignored it and went to the door, but in his early morning state, forgot to look through its window first. He swung it open and saw his former friends, smiling mischievously.

           Before he could ask them what they wanted, Jamie, Austin, and Chad all leapt forward and tackled him, pinning him to the wooden floor as they laughed at him. Jace struggled, but it was no use. Their betrayals gave them the unholy power to immobilize him, and he assumed that they would soon brandish knives and start taking turns.

           Instead, Jared, in all of his Angels jersey and blue jeans glory, appeared from behind them as their master. He gave his new victim the largest toothy grin yet, pulled out his giant water gun from behind his back, and took aim. In his final moments, Jace happened to notice that Jared’s water tank was full of molten, glowing lava.

           He was then startled awake from another stress-induced morning dream, his eyes shooting open and focusing on his finger puppet. It had been placed upright directly in front of his face, where it stared back at him with its cartoony eyes.

           He sat up in bed and looked at the clock to see that it was 7:09 A.M., which were school day numbers that should have nothing to do with weekends or the summer. He also noticed that his time-tour guide was gone, leaving behind a messy bed.

           After Jace fell back onto his pillow and tried to get to sleep again for several minutes, Wes unlocked the room’s door and came in, carrying a large box from Dunkin’ Donuts. Jace eyed him, and after he took a sip of his coffee, Wes realized he was awake.

           “Oh, hey, you’re up! That’s a surprise. Look, I brought breakfast for the week.”

           “Don’t you ever sleep?” Jace moaned. “What were you doing all night, anyway?”

           “Never mind that. And I can operate on five hours, remember?” He walked over and tilted the donut box, letting the TV Guide on top slide off and onto Jace’s stomach.

           He picked it up and saw the cover, which featured a man in alien makeup to promote a ‘Stellar Sci-fi Summer’, and asked, “What’s this for?”

           “That… is your next big adventure, young Master Baker.”