s1.e8

Cool Daze

            Jace escaped the crowds of fellow fifth-graders and the younger kids by slipping into his assigned classroom, already full of students. Aside from the posters and other decorations that dated it, the room looked just like the ones he had gone to at this very school. The building was unchanged, but those that filled its halls were quite different.

            With one hand tightly gripping a backpack strap, Jace looked at and meandered around desks and the students that sat atop or leaned against them. While no longer among the shortest around, he remained a little below average in the height department. Up front, the teacher organized her papers and prepared to initiate the school year.

            After passing by a group of boys comparing and showing off the Nintendo Power and GamePro magazine issues they’d gotten over the summer, he stopped for a moment near another gathering of four that was discussing television shows.

            “You guys seen the latest Home Improvement? Man, that always makes me laugh.”

            “Sitcoms and shows about real people are boring, Wright. It’s all about cartoons. I can’t wait until Simpsons comes back and we find out who really shot Mr. Burns.”

            “If you like cartoons, you’re gonna love this new anime stuff coming to the States s-soon. My big brother is pumped that we’re getting Sailor Moon. He’s n-nuts about it.”

            “No idea what anime is, but have you guys been following Star Trek: Voyager?” the typical nerd of the group asked them. “My dad ordered a t-shirt for the show for me! I had doubts about a lady captain… But she’s almost as good as Picard!”

            “Robby, man, you’re a dork, dude,” one of the others boys said with a laugh.

            “Yeah, but that’s okay, Carson. He’s still cool, in his own way,” Wright added.

            “Well, as long as I’m still cool to you guys…” Robby said with a sigh.

            Then all at once, they turned and stared at Jace.

            “Hey, you new?” Carson asked. “Never seen you before. You like TV?”

            “Y-yeah…” Jace murmured, and promptly walked away without engaging.

            He found Wessy’s group, where the five of them—no Zach—were hanging out, and could have been in a competition for weirdest way to sit in a chair. Or, maybe they were just trying to “out-cool” each other, which seemed to be important to his peers.

            For the first time, Wessy made direct eye contact with him, though it was brief. Thinking that their teacher might be one of those that didn’t assign spots, Jace went ahead and took the desk to the left of his uncle, pushing his backpack under the seat.

            As he sat, waited, and twiddled his thumbs, he looked around some more at the twenty or so kids he would be sharing an indefinite amount of time with. A few stood out, mostly because of their fashion choices. One girl who seemed to have a smile she couldn’t erase was showing off her pink backpack to her friends, who paid little mind to the fact that she was wearing an equally pink cat ear headband. Then there was a boy in a dark blue hoodie off in the corner, shadily handing out baseball cards to Wright.

            Before he could study anyone else, the strange girl from his bus stop walked up and, without hesitating, took the spot behind him. Jace kept facing forward, but gulped.

            “Hey,” he heard Ash say from nearby. “I was going to sit there.”

            Jace tried to look back and over his shoulder without being noticed. Ash had her arms crossed and looked a little bit upset with her fellow bespectacled peer.

            “We can sit wherever we want, Teller…” the gray hoodie girl said sternly.

            She called other kids by their last names. That was never a good sign. Needing to find something out, Jace grabbed his bag and moved up a row. After a few seconds, the odd girl gathered her things and switched to Jace’s former desk.

            “Didn’t want to sit there, anyway,” she muttered.

            “Whatever,” Ash said and plopped into her seat. “Hey, Arty, Mom didn’t pack my bunny eraser. Can I have one of your basketball ones or something?”

            Arthur moaned about it, but still gave his sister the orange ball-shaped eraser on his pencil to appease her. She smiled and attached it, as the girl Jace now believed was stalking him took out a composition notebook and scribbled down a few notes.

            “Millie, you’re such a weirdo,” Jared scoffed. “First day, and already doing that?”

            She poked at her glasses and glared at him for a second before going back to her notes. Jace could feel her breathing down his neck. Sure, he could keep changing desks until she took the hint—and with any luck, backed off—but they were filling up fast, and he didn’t want to lose his place so close to Wessy and disappoint his adult version.

            “Looks like Millie Vanbusen has her eye on ya, new kid,” Sadie said cheekily.

            “Is… that really bad?” Jace asked.

            Colin explained, “She’s a creepy weirdo who picks a victim and spies on them for weeks, or even sometimes months. She made two notebooks full of… notes on me in first grade. And I’m not a freak or anything! Yeah, it’s been, like, her hobby for years.”

            Millie grumbled and looked at Wessy’s crew. “It’s not my fault this school’s got so many ‘freaks’ in it. Someone has to do a study on them before the bodies pile up.”

            “Oh my God, Mill…” Arthur sighed. “What is wrong with you?”

            “Millie, do you even know his name?” Sadie wondered. “It’s rude to not ask.”

            “Subject #46 will work for now,” she replied and jotted down another sentence.

            “Um, so… How do I get her to leave me alone?” Jace shyly asked the others.

            Millie just let out a small chortle and kept writing. All the while, Jace had noticed that Jared, at the desk to his right, was locked into a curious gaze.

            “What is your name?” he wondered. “Haven’t I seen you around before?”

            “Maybe? I used to go to Sherman Miller. I’m…” he sighed, “Jason… Connor.”

            “Oh. Guess I might’a noticed you around the neighborhood or something.”

            “Don’t worry about Millie,” Wessy said. “She’s mostly harmless. Hey. Your hair and shoes are all right. Me and my friends here know everything about this school. It’s how we made it to fifth grade,” he explained jokingly. “But here’s the thing. As fifth-graders, we got images to keep, like the ones that came before us. So, are you cool?”

            “Um. I think so? Yeah. You guys seem… pretty ‘cool,’ so I guess you’d know.”

            “He needs work,” Sadie stated. “But that’s okay. Eventually you won’t even need to try anymore, right? Hm… maybe a nickname would help?”

            “Yeah, they can give you a boost if they’re good,” Arthur agreed. “Of course, we all graduated past nicknames—we don’t have to rely on them anymore.”

            Jace forced an awkward grin, and thought about how ridiculous and shallow all of this was. Evidently, Ash agreed; he caught her rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

            “Jason… Hm, I think you should go by Jace,” Wessy suggested. “Maybe. That could be a little lame, actually. I think that’s also a fish? Well, it’s up to you.”

            After Jace cursed his uncle under his breath for not being more creative with his alias, and ending up with a nickname that rendered its whole purpose a moot point, the teacher finally stood and addressed the class, five minutes after the bell had sounded.

            “I think Jace is kinda cool for a name,” Sadie whispered and faced forward.

            “Good morning, fifth-graders!” the teacher announced as the last of the kids scrambled to their desks. “I’m Ms. Porter, and congrats on making it! You’re at the top of the student body, and I’m going to get you all ready for middle school! Yay!” she introduced herself with perhaps too much enthusiasm, and finished with a little cough and a nudge of her glasses. “Ahem, well… Let’s begin with roll call.”

            She struck Jace as a little dorky, but warm. If his uncle really saw this year as the one when he was in his prime, then he likely had a good teacher, as well. He zoned out a bit after he bumbled his response to his own new name, only shouting “here” once the teacher was halfway to marking him as absent. He didn’t really absorb anyone else’s—aside from Spice’s. Yes, there was a girl named Spice, and she was very well-dressed.

            “She better not make us introduce ourselves,” Wessy muttered to his friends.

            “I hate when they do that,” Jared replied. “Think she’s a first-day homeworker?”

            “Doesn’t strike me as one. But looks can be deceiving. She could be really mean.”

            “I’m so glad everyone made it to the first day of school!” Ms. Porter exclaimed once she finished writing down names. “Now, if you ever want to switch desks, ask me first, because… I’ll have to write that down. And if you’re talking too much with your friends or misbehaving, well, I’m sorry, but I’ll just have to move you. Anyway. I believe math wakes up the mind. How lucky that we get to begin with it in the morning.”

            She grabbed a box full of workbooks with covers in the most boring shade of green possible, and started passing them out. Once Jace got his, he opened it and flipped through the drab gray newsprint pages. Apparently, he was meant to write on them.

            “Aw, cripes,” Arthur groaned. “I hate these things. You have to press the pencil so hard just to get the lead to, uh, you know… come out?”

            “This school year’s looking bad already, guys,” Wessy surmised.

            “I detest these,” Millie also complained. “Wish I could burn them all…”

            “So many dour faces,” Ms. Porter continued. “Dour… Hm, do you know that word yet? Anyway, the school board is running just a liiiittle low on cash this year,” she tried to smile, “and these old books are what we’re left with for math. I’m sure you’ve gotten sick and tired of them by now, so we’re treating them like textbooks. All we need to learn math is a bunch of problems to solve, right? So, let’s take turns coming to the board and working these out together! Oh, and you can also introduce yourself when you come up. If you want. So, who wants to try some long division from page 56?”

            Robby the Star Trek fan was the first to raise his hand, and he went up to the whiteboard and began talking about how his favorite show got him interested in math. Then he went on to solve ten problems in all, each one more “exciting” than the last.

            “Huh. Maybe she’s not so bad,” Wessy said. “I mean, it’s still math, but at least now it might not suck so much. Most of the gang’s together, too, which is great.”

            “Hey, Wes, what’s that shirt you’re wearing?” Jared asked. “Forgot to look.”

            “Oh, this?” He turned and showed it off so everyone could see. “I love it.”

            The colorful blue and red shirt had a high-contrast, grungy tattoo-like print of King Arcade’s Tony and Apple mascots, looking pretty serious in imminent combat poses. The title of the amusement park was particularly stylized in a lightning font.

            “How many times did you go over the summer?” Colin wondered.

            “Three! My mom really liked it, and then my dad took me last weekend.”

            “Just once for me,” Colin sighed. “Dad isn’t about amusement parks.”

            “At least you guys got to go!” Sadie whispered as loudly as it was possible to whisper. “My parents say parks are too expensive. I have to save up my allowance.”

            “What about you… Jace?” Wessy asked. “You been yet?”

            “Um, yeah. It’s a cool park. I hope it sticks around and is… cool for a long time.”

            “You good at video games? You gotta at least play them to really enjoy the place.”

            “S-sure. I’m pretty good.”

            The dark blue hoodie-wearing lad went up next to solve some monetary-themed problems—it looked like he was good at handling cash—and introduced himself as Park. But he didn’t want to share anything about himself other than his name.

            Arty asked, “What systems you got? I don’t play favs. I do Nintendo and Sega.”

            “Uh, same here,” Jace said. “And I go to arcades. Yeah… I’m hip. Up to date.”

            “What’re ya playing right now? Maybe I can give you some tips,” Wessy offered.

            “Guys, maybe the new kid doesn’t want to talk about video games all class,” Sadie noted. “I’m more interested in hearing some Miller stories. Jace, do you know a girl—”

            Jared scoffed over her, “That school sucks, Sade. That’s all we need to know.”

            In a try-hard attempt to make a new friend like his uncle wanted, Jace skipped to the ‘we’re like brothers!’ stuff, replying, “I probably like the same games you do, Wessy.”

            “Pfft. Wessy!” Jared chortled as his buddy’s expression flattened.

            “Seriously? Wessy? Don’t call me that, dude. You sound like my mom,” Wes said.

            “S-sorry!” Jace apologized. “My bad. We had, uh, a kid at my old school who was actually literally for-real called Wessy… So…”

            “Man, he must’ve had lousy parents. But I mean it, don’t call me… that. Anyway, I play a little of everything. Mario, Sonic, Link, Samus, Kirby, Donkey Kong, Mega Man, Doom Guy, Pac-Man, Burger Time guy… They’re all good friends of mine.”

            “Me too; I play lots of games. Hey, what if there was, like, a video game where all the best characters got together to fight each other? Or even smash each other’s faces?”

            “That sounds stupid. Why would they all get together to fight?” Jared questioned. “And the guys with guns would just blow everyone away.”

            “Nah, sounds awesome to me,” Colin argued. “They just gotta balance it right.”

            “Colin likes fighting games the most out of all of us,” Arthur explained.

            “Oh,” Jace said, feigning surprise, “that’s kind of surprising.”

            Colin let out a meek laugh and cleaned his glasses with his shirt. “I like getting the combos down, and figuring out the right strategies to beating someone. That’s all.”

            “Arthur, would you like to come up?” Ms. Porter asked him. “I believe you were on the fourth-grade math team last year, isn’t that right?”

            “Fine…” he said with a huff. He then grumbled to the others before going up to the board, “I wish she wouldn’t say that out loud to everyone.”

            “C’mon, you almost made math seem kind of almost cool,” Wessy reassured him.

            “It’s really crucial that things are cool or awesome, huh?” Jace asked the group.

            “Better than being lame,” Sadie replied with a shrug.

            “Shallow, simple-minded plebs…” Millie quietly scorned them as she wrote.

            Maybe, but Jace knew that becoming “cool” was the way into Wessy’s crew.

            The lunchroom smell hadn’t changed. It was still rubbery, with hints of food and cleaning product. But the arrangements were a bit different from what Jace was used to; instead of multiple round tables, the room had several very long ones, with hard plastic stools. They provided no comfort, but that hardly mattered. With a half-hour for lunch, kids were in too much of a rush and usually only had five to ten minutes to actually sit.

            With a styrofoam tray full of cafeteria pizza in hand, Jace looked around at the entirety of the fifth-grade student body, most of whom must have felt on top of the world as they were finally the oldest students at school. He wasn’t sure if he should sit next to Wessy’s group again—he didn’t want to seem like he was trying too hard to get in with them—but he did at least want to keep tabs on them and pick up on their quirks.

            He paid for his meal, looked back at one of the younger lunch ladies that he was pretty sure still served food in 2020, took a step forward—and almost ran into a big girl with brown hair, who was dressed in ratty black pants and an oversized “No Fear” shirt.

            “Watch it, new kid, or you’re next on my list!” she threatened, holding up her brown bag lunch high above as if it were a weapon. “I am not in the mood on first days!”

            He recognized her as someone from his class, and watched as she stomped off towards a girl in a vibrant red dress who wore multiple bracelets on both wrists. Jace realized that her target was the young lady named Spice. From what little he had learned about her so far, she seemed to be a cheerful, style-advice-giving fashionista.

            The angry girl slammed her bag down on the spot next to her, and Spice glared up in response. They had definitely known each other for a while, and the two got right into trading insults about some past event Jace couldn’t care less about. He just wanted to avoid being put on any more lists after having attracting Millie’s gaze.

            He spotted Wessy and his friends, already surrounded by other kids from his class, and took one of the seats nearby that was still within earshot. They were talking about current media trends, and what they thought would last and what “sucked.”

            Then Millie came over and sat at the other side of the table. As she munched on carrot sticks from her lunch box, she set down a trapper keeper with raccoons on the cover and opened it, revealing stacks of paper. She looked a little like Jace’s mom when she did work during dinner. Seeing a chance to reason with her, he opened his mouth.

            She spoke first, “I’m not writing about you. Writing about kids at lunch is rude.”

            “But not rude all the time? Do you, um… Do you live at The Flamingo, too?”

            She stopped, glanced up at him, and then returned to her papers. “I’m trying to organize here. New school year, new file system. Not enough time in the day.”

            “What do you get out of these notes? I mean, I don’t like you spying on me, but you seem pretty dedicated and organized about it.”

            She’d grown a little agitated, but replied, “People always act so surprised when someone does something… surprising. But I could’ve told them it was bound to happen eventually. They should’a been paying more attention to that particular maniac.”

            That was hardly an answer, but Jace continued, “Do you got anything on Wessy? I mean… Wes and his friends? I’m trying to, er, impress them.”

            She raised an eyebrow. “And I’m trying to concentrate, but… why them? All they care about is mainstream junk. They’re boring. Try being an individual; try being unique.”

            “I get the feeling that doing that will only make you write about me more.”

            “Oh, I already got down plenty about you. Not that you’ll ever read any of it.”

            Jace said nothing for about a minute and chugged down his milk. He watched as other kids went about finding seats, none of them by Millie—and some clearly cracked a joke with their friends about her behind her back as they passed by. He could see why a quiet, strange kid like Millie would be shunned; she had the makings of a gossip, yet kept all the juicy tidbits to herself. Even so, he was starting to feel just a little sorry for her.

            “So…” Jace spoke up again, and trying to be clever, asked, “do you ever dress up as anything cool? Like… an alter ego that would carry around a neat sword?”

            She stared at him. He knew his question was incredibly stupid, but he wanted to gauge her response. The chance that she was a time-traveler-aware ninja was nonzero.

            “Wow,” she said. “You might be weirder than I thought. But you’re talking too much and ruining everything, so I’m getting out of here. Enjoy your lunch, weirdo boy.”

            She got up and left in a hurry, keeping her precious notes close against her chest. Jace knew he had just lengthened and intensified his period of observation, but his need to unmask their mysterious, potentially dangerous stalker was worth the pursuit.

            He spent lunch watching the hundred other kids in his grade, and taking in more mannerisms. Things did feel familiar, but he also felt out of place, a bit wiser, and maybe a little special. He also didn’t feel pressured. Could school actually become… fun?

            The opportunity to answer that question arrived when recess came up next, in an era where it was longer and actually let students burn off some excess energy. But Jace wasn’t surprised to see that 1995 fifth-graders were also more interested in milling about, hanging out on equipment, and chatting in groups rather than playing on anything.

            The playground was wide open, with a single large fort, swing sets, and plenty of trees that provided needed shade. The grass was only lightly watered, making it dry and brittle, and waves of heat emanated from the basketball court. Games of “floor is lava” became “air is lava” on the hottest days, which were mad scrambles to secure the shady spots. It was a tradition that existed in his time, and likely began when DTE opened.

            “Hey,” a dull, serious-for-his-age voice said from behind him. “J. Connor, right?”

            Jace turned around to see Park, still hiding in his hoodie despite the heat. “It’s… Jason, but, yeah. Uh, do you… want something?”

            “I prefer last names until I become more familiar with someone.”

            “You and Millie both, huh…”

            “Hey, don’t lump me in with her. Just thought I’d introduce myself. We don’t get many transfers and new kids here. Park Myong,” he said, his hands firmly in his hoodie pockets and not about to come out for a shake. “I procure… things. Hard to get things sometimes, or stuff parents don’t want their kids having. If you have any spare change, I also got some stock inventory I keep in my backpack. You know, for the rough times.”

            “Oh. So you’re a walking RPG town store. You got a sword in there?”

            “Heh. You’re funny. I also know things. Sweet intel, stuff like that. I’m streetwise; I know the latest happenings going down, the new gossip. Again, I’m no M. Vanbusen.”

            “Cool… Thanks. Good to know, actually.”

            Thinking that maybe Park would have something valuable to share, Jace stood there and thought of possible questions worth asking. But before he could, Wessy came over with his full crew—with Zach in tow this time, since all the fifth-grade classes were together at recess. Wessy smiled, walked up, and gently slapped Park on the back.

            “Hey, Jace! Park already hitting you up, huh?”

            “I meet with all prospective clients, Colton…” Park responded flatly.

            “Yeah, sure you do. Hey, his prices are pretty fair, but still, would you trust this guy? Or wanna hang around with him longer than you have to?”

            Park sighed and walked away. Zach then stepped up to look over Jace.

            “This the new kid?” he asked Wessy. “Not a bad get-up, but he lacks that cool confidence.” He turned to Jace. “Just sayin’. If you dress like that, you gotta back it up.”

            “I can! I was cool back at Miller. First day jitters, that’s all. So many new faces.”

            “Aw, Wes, you gotta show him a few of those faces, bud. You know everyone.”

            “I was about to,” Wessy told his taller, even cooler friend.

            “Well, good! Get to it. I got a wager on a Pogs game. See ya guys later.”

            “That’s Zach Pentino,” Arthur said after he left. “He’s always going somewhere.”

            Wessy stopped him. “I got this, Arty. Jace, come on—let’s find some of the kids from our class. I’ve known a lot of them since kindergarten or first grade.”

            “Sure. I mean…” he shrugged and tried to look really chill, “that’s cool.”

            “So. Zach,” Wessy began, throwing in a guided tour around the playground at the same time. “He’s the coolest kid in school, but he also kind of knows everyone and does everything, so he doesn’t stay put for long.” He looked around for someone to introduce next. “He still can’t quite compare to the legend, though. That’d be Charlie—”

            “Pippin,” Jace finished with a sigh, tired of hearing about the kid.

            The others stopped and turned to him as Colin asked, “You know him?”

            “Oh, uh, sort of. His name reached Sherman Miller’s halls.”

            Wessy rubbed his chin. “Hm. I guess word of his exploits would travel that far.”

            “There’s Willa,” Sadie said, pointing out the cat ear girl. “She’s a basket case.”

            “And we don’t have time to listen to her whine,” Jared interjected. “Sorry, had to. She’s kind of been pretending that she’s a cat since, like, third grade?”

            Jace looked at her, under one of the trees by herself, pointy ears still on her head as she played with both toy cats and actual cat toys.

            “She really wants a pet cat, but her mom’s allergic or something,” Wes explained. “She’s otherwise normalish. I mean, she has friends and stuff, but when she’s alone…”

            “Millie gave up on her after a week,” Arthur said. “No progress, I guess.”

            “Not all of us are that strange or quirky,” Wes promised.

            They stopped at the basketball court, where a black boy in a light shirt and shorts was relaxing on the ground next to a hoop pole, his legs going straight up the metal.

            “Hey, Carson,” Colin said. “What’cha listening to?”

            He wore sunglasses—and headphones even bigger than Lucy’s, which were plugged into a portable CD player spinning a disk on his stomach. Jace could tell he was another one of the cool kids in the class, even if he wasn’t part of Wessy’s group. There had likely been plenty across the school; not all of them could fit in one squad.

            Carson turned down the volume a little and said smoothly, “Seal’s Kiss From a Rose, man. On repeat. One day I’m gonna sing like that to all the ladies.”

            “That’s a nice dream,” Jared said. “I won’t even need to sing to them, though.”

            “Sure, Jared…” Sadie mocked him in a friendly sort of way.

            “Watch out for Delilah,” Carson added before going back to jamming. “No idea what her prob is. She’s starting the year all agro; unresolved fourth grade beef, maybe.”

            “Carson’s all about music, if you couldn’t tell,” Sadie noted as they moved on.

            They arrived at the central playground, with a huge fort that had a bridge in the middle, a slide, a jungle gym, and a tic-tac-toe board. Jace was shocked—it was the exact same structure from his time, only not at all faded and worn. It must’ve been brand new.

            “Oh. And speaking of Delilah, there she is.” Jared pointed her out. “Keep back.”

            The tall, brutish girl from the cafeteria was patrolling and stomping around the playground, and other kids gave her a wide berth or averted their eyes.

            “She hates everyone, Spice especially,” Wessy explained. “I think because she’s obsessed with how she looks and likes to insult Delilah’s lack of fashion sense, so…”

            Jace found Spice, hiding in relatively plain sight at the top of the jungle gym with her friends. Once Delilah spotted her, Ms. Well-Dressed dropped down and took off, with her nemesis close behind. How odd, Jace thought, that all of this had taken place regardless of whether or not he was here to see it; the many moments lost to playground history, but also playing on repeat, with subtle variations in each new generation.

            As recess came to a close, Jace was beginning to understand that there were different kinds of “cool.” His young uncle wasn’t too outward or elitist. What he had, and likely respected in others, was complete confidence in himself and an ability to make friends. If he wanted into his circle, Jace knew he’d have to work on his own social skill.

            With the bell ringing and Wessy unable to find anyone else from their class, Jace went with the others back inside, having never touched any play hardware. He hoped he could make it through the rest of the day without screwing something up.

            Wes woke back up around noon, long after seeing Jace off in the morning. All these months later, deep into his long vacation from his job, and the wonderful feeling of sleeping in as long as he wanted like a lazy college student had yet to fully diminish.

            He yawned a bunch of times, threw together a lunch of leftover Chinese food and pizza, watched some crappy daytime TV—as usual he was more interested in the retro commercials—and ate his grub on the grubby couch. After a belch, another yawn, and a few itch-killing scratches, he got up and headed to the computer.

            It was great living the bachelor’s life again, where he had no need to impress or clean up just because Jace was around. But he’d return in a few hours, and then Wes would have to turn back into someone whose sister would allow to take care of her kid.

            He checked AOL’s news page and gave a few of the current events a chuckle. It looked like Windows 95 had just been released. He recalled how many stories there were about the operating system, and knew he’d be seeing them all over again in the coming months. After that bit of fun, he downloaded the latest receiver data.

            He was keeping up the charade for the sake of his nephew, and the audio graph was an easy file to retrieve. A full day of actual recorded audio files would take hours to get on 56k, or a visit to the device. As long as Jace saw the lines, that should be good enough to placate him. It wasn’t like any spikes would appear anytime soon.

            However, some data had to appear, and the daily check was troubling on that front, because the graphic became a complete flatline starting at about midnight. Wes swallowed the rest of his coffee in a big gulp, rechecked his uplink to the receiver, and then initiated a download of the most recent hour of the full audio recording. He spent the ten minutes waiting for the low-quality file to appear in a folder by tapping his fingers on his mouse pad and looking at primitive, early-internet GIFs.

            Once it was done and he opened it, he knew that the graph was accurate. There was nothing recorded since just over twelve hours ago; not even white noise. The link to the unit was still there, but it was like the recorder itself had been knocked out.

            He let out a big sigh followed by a groan, and not wanting to leave the apartment all day, sloppily got dressed and grabbed his keys and brick of a cell phone.

            It was hot, dry, and bright outside, so his eyes took a minute to adjust. Once they did, he got in the car and drove off towards the alleyway that hid his handiwork.

            To avoid drawing attention, he parked away from the alley and crept in when no one was looking—though there weren’t actually many people around the area on a hot late summer day. He quickly found the recording device, but the antennae were missing.

            “The hell, dude…” he muttered. “The university won’t like this.”

            He saw the wire that had been attached to the antennae, dangling freely towards the grimy ground. He grabbed and examined it to find a clean cut at its end, like a sharp, precision instrument had been used to sever it from the now absent detector cluster.

            As he looked for clues near the dumpster and broken pallets, he heard a car pull up. A police cruiser was at the curb of his apartment’s parking lot, and two cops were stepping out. He quickly noticed that one of them had on a pair of familiar sunglasses.

            “Oh, crap…” He felt his heart start to race as he crept behind the large, smelly dumpster to hide, where he peeked out stealthily. “Crap, crap, crap…”

            There was something sinister about the taller cop of the duo; he looked rather expressionless and serious as his partner questioned an old woman at the bus stop. It was his sunglasses especially—Wes was almost certain he had seen them before.

            “They couldn’t have found me already…” he whispered and, starting to panic, tried to reach for something that was at The Flamingo, instead of on his person.

            He couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the taller officer seemed to be looking around for something. Was his partner even aware of who, or what he was? Did they replace the originals, kind of like a Terminator? He wasn’t sure how they worked, but…

            Wait, no. Wes let out a big huff of relief as the tall officer suddenly took off his shades and bellowed out a hearty laugh. Someone must have just told a joke. He looked normal and human as he patted his partner’s shoulder, and the two said their goodbyes to the old lady, got in their RVPD cruiser, and sped off. Crisis averted; never existed.

            “Keep it together, man…” Wes said, slapping his face lightly.

            He grabbed what was left of his equipment, realizing he’d have to come up with a new way to get Jace something to look at daily. Or, he could replace the antennae and try hiding the tech somewhere better. Which seemed stupid, as he wasn’t actually going to be using it. But the boy would inevitably want to see data again. What a waste of a day.

            His phone startled him. He answered it, and Eddy got to yammering. It sounded like the start of another lengthy call about how impressed he was with the “formula.”

            Back at the school, Jace had used a bathroom break to go down the hall and enter the nearby lavatory. After checking that all the stalls were empty, he went into one, took out the bulky cell phone that he had hidden in a jacket pocket, and dialed the digits that Wes had made him memorize. He both wanted to check in, and ask for a few more tips on how to win over his younger self, as he felt like progress had already stalled.

            But only a strange, unfamiliar beeping sound came from the speaker. He tried a second time, and heard it again. Maybe it was some kind of… busy signal? He vaguely recalled hearing the sound in an old movie, from when before a decent voicemail system existed. Without the lifeline, he didn’t think he’d be getting into the group today.

            Frustrated that he was still on his own, he took care of business, washed his hands, and began heading to the door. It suddenly swung open—and Jared was there. He didn’t look surprised to see Jace. Had he followed him? That couldn’t be good.

            No stranger to bathroom bullies, Jace kept his head down and attempted to rush past him—but Jared blocked his exit with an arm, and looked ready to monologue.

            “Hold it, Jason. H-hey!” He reacted when Jace tried to physically move his arm to get past. Jared wasn’t all that strong, and ended up having to reposition and block the door with his entire body instead. He huffed, crossed his arms, and continued, “Chill, man. I’m not gonna beat you up or something. I just want to make a few things clear.”

            “Where’s Wes? He’s not going to like it if you’re about to terrorize me.”

            “I just said…” He grumbled. “Look, this is a friendly reality check. If I said this with him around, he’d tell me to stop ‘being mean.’ He tries to be friends with everyone, but don’t get chummy with him too fast, or try to get into our circle overnight… We’ve stuck together for years, and you just came out of nowhere. You got the looks, but any kid with cash and a style magazine can have that. For all I know, you’re another faker.”

            Already feeling maybe a little superior to any less-civilized 1990s kids, like they weren’t worth his time if they were just going to upset him, Jace gritted his teeth.

            “Whatever you say, Jared…” he said and pushed his way back into the hall.

            “Hey!” he shouted from behind him as he walked away. “I wasn’t done yet! Uh, I’m just trying to watch out for Wes, you know? And don’t mess with Sadie!”

            What, did Jared have feelings for her or something? Whatever, Jace thought. Wes had warned him that Jared turned out to be a jerk, and he had no patience left for those.

            He returned to class just in time to see the teacher getting ready to put a tape into the TV cart’s VCR, which she had already moved to the front and center. All the other kids looked pretty excited that they were getting to watch something on the first day. He went back to his seat and snuck his phone into his backpack as the others chatted.

            “I’m starting to like this Ms. Porter,” Wessy said.

            “Yep, she’s already my second favorite elementary teacher,” Arty replied.

            “I believe that an entertained young mind learns the best, so I’ll always try to mix things up and keep class interesting,” Ms. Porter promised. “So, for science today, we’re going to check out an episode of one of my favorite shows. The Magic School Bus! Does anyone watch it?” she asked everyone and saw a few hands go up.

            It was a PBS show, but Jace, having only just gotten cable at the apartment a few weeks ago so that he could continue his uncle’s “watch all the TV you can” quest, didn’t mind getting a chance to see an episode of one of the series on his ever-growing list.

            Somewhat unfortunately, after the teacher hit the lights and the show’s theme song finished, he quickly identified the episode as the one where the kids went to space and visited worlds. He’d already seen that one, so it wouldn’t hold his interest as well.

            “Oh, this episode,” Colin sighed. “Ugh. When Arnold takes his helmet off on Pluto, and his whole head freezes… That part still freaks me out a little.”

            Arthur wondered, “You think the kids’ parents are okay with Ms. Frizzle taking them into the vacuum of space, and to dangerous planets and stuff?”

            “What about the other classes at school?” Sadie added. “Do their teachers also have magic school buses? Probably not, right? So… would they all be jealous that Ms. Frizzle’s class gets to go to space, or inside another student’s body?”

            Jace chuckled at the comments; they were like the kind he’d make, and would be firing off right now if he felt friendly enough with the others to partake in childish jest.

            Jared finally returned a few minutes into the tape, and gave the kid he had failed to intimidate just a bit of a stink eye as he shuffled over to his seat.

            “You fall in?” Wes joked. “That took a while.”

            “Oh, shut up. Wessy,” Jared retorted and scooted into his desk.

            “Not you, too. Dang it, Jason, why’d you put that in everyone’s mind?”

            Jace looked at Jared. He looked back, with a barely perceptible sneer on his face.

            Smart enough to understand what he might have just started by denying Jared the success of his scare tactics, Jace realized that making an enemy out of one of Wessy’s friends was only going to make getting into his group more difficult; Jared could be a roadblock to gaining his young uncle’s trust. Tactically, he knew the best way to get any further would be to befriend him first. He was obnoxious, so that wouldn’t be easy.

            For now, Jace kept his head down and watched the episode. As Ms. Frizzle’s class arrived at Saturn, he heard Wessy and Sadie laugh quietly at a joke they shared. He glanced at them, and then stared at Jared, who was glaring at him—for just a moment before turning away. Hm. Maybe his issue with him actually had more to do with Sadie?

            “Psst. Jared…” Jace whispered to him. “Hey. Sorry if I was snippy in there…” He cringed a little inside after borrowing one of his mom’s often-used words. “I was, uh…” His mind scrambled for an excuse. “Really… um… constipated?”

            Jared suppressed a laugh. “You really don’t need to share stuff like that, dude.”

            “It’s okay if you like Sadie. I’m not going to, like, try and steal her from you.”

            “What are you talking about?” His eyes darted about for a second. “Just… shut up. You don’t know anything about me, man. You… new kid.”

            Jace thought, Huh. Jared seems to have a little preteen angst. Maybe I could use that later.

            “Look, I just want to be cool like you guys,” he replied, with a strong emphasis on the most important word among the group. “It’s important to be cool, right?”

            “Yeah, sure. But it’s not something most kids just pick up,” he said matter-of-factly with crossed arms and a nod. “And you can’t be it by copying someone, either.”

            “Well. What makes all of you guys cool? I won’t copy any of your… stuff.”

            “That would take way too long to explain.”

            “I dunno. Why should I even believe that any of you really are cool?”

            “Man…” Jared sighed. “Okay, listen. Being cool is something you earn and gotta keep up on, but each of us also has some big accomplishment, too. The twins were in a clothing ad. Sadie’s a girl that actually wanted to hang out with us.” He paused, probably realizing how lame that sounded. “And… I’ve always watched out for them, you know?”  

            Genuinely curious about his uncle, Jace asked, “And what about Wes?”

            “That all has to do with Charlie Pippin,” Jared said with a yawn, and then turned to face the TV again. “And I’m not gonna give you that life story right now.”

            Jace assumed Colin got in just by being Wessy’s childhood and best friend, and Zach, in the running for coolest kid at school, needed no other reason for his inclusion in the circle. But he wondered how he could make himself cool. Sure, in his time, it was important to at least not suck, but popularity boiled down to someone’s music tastes, their social media status, or maybe how good they were at gaming. Old school “cool” stuff seemed intangible, outside of scoring some big win that insta-earned the status.

            As Arnold’s feud with his cousin Janet quickly escalated on the TV and the class approached the planet Neptune, Jace took out his notebook, flipped to the back page, and began to jot down some ideas on how he could also achieve glory.

            Being the brains of the group, which he might have actually excelled at, wasn’t going to work; both Colin and Arthur seemed to have that base covered already. He still didn’t know—or like—much about current music trends. He could probably work up to being a decent retro gamer, but again, Wessy and Arty already tore it up at arcades and on consoles as well, so any exceptional skill at gaming wouldn’t be that special, either.

            But he did have one very unique special advantage. Though he couldn’t exploit it to the fullest by sharing the truth about his temporal aberration, perhaps his uncle had enough info about the year to turn him into some excellent prediction machine? Would that even be cool, though? Or would it become creepy and weird after a while? Once he began writing suggestions involving time travel, he couldn’t think of anything else. And that took a toll on his self-confidence. Did he really have so little going for him?

            He wasn’t the only one scratching away on notepaper. Right behind him, Millie sounded like she was already writing his biography. Nervous that she might be peeking over his shoulder at his notes, he scrambled and covered them up before closing the book completely. He then looked back, and she looked up and smirked maliciously. The light from the TV reflected off her lenses, making her look especially fiendish.

            Now agitated by her, he unabashedly tried to steal a glance at her work. But she had a fast reaction speed, and pulled her trapper keeper away before he could so much as see the white of her paper. She shook her head and used her binder’s zipper to seal it.

            “You’re never seeing what I’m writing. No one ever does,” she promised.

            Jace growled as Jared turned and gave him more advice, “Give it up, dude. Put up with it until she’s done with you.” He looked back at the TV and sighed. “I did.”

            Science class became social studies, and then the bell finally sounded to conclude the first, long day of school. As everyone was getting up to head to the buses, Jace felt a sense of accomplishment in that he hadn’t utterly screwed up. While the curriculum was a little different, for the most part, it all felt like a repeat of his previous first day of fifth grade. And he was glad to be going “home” and back to his games, just like usual.

            Wessy gave him a subtle but friendly wave as he and his friends headed out, so at least he wasn’t in the negative with him. As Jace grabbed his bag and prepared to find his bus, Ms. Porter gestured for him. He felt his heart skip a beat, as he had gotten used to only coming up to the teacher when he was in trouble. Did he do something wrong?

            “Jason,” she said warmly, reminding him of his mom, “we didn’t get the chance to meet today. I didn’t want to introduce you in a special way just because you’re new here. I know that’s embarrassing. But I was hoping you’d say something about yourself when you had the chance, up at the board. Are you one of those quiet students?”

            He shrugged. “I guess I’m always a little nervous when a new year starts.”

            “Oh? Well, that’s all right. I just don’t want you feeling like a stranger. I know what moving is like, even if it’s just in the same city. But, a new school, too… I don’t want you having trouble making new friends. If you need anything from me, ask.”

            “O-okay,” he said with a stupid smile and clutched his backpack strap.

            Man, what a nice teacher. Of course, he had known a few of his own, and even the nicest ones could get scary when a student angered them. But was Ms. Porter capable of losing her cool? It was no wonder she had been his uncle’s favorite from the school.

            “Actually, I was wondering about the girl behind me. Millie?” Jace looked over at her empty desk. “I don’t want to sound like a squealer or whatever, but she was kind of writing about me all class in her notebook. Like, to the point where I could hear her pencil going crazy. And I’m actually pretty boring… Should I be worried?”

            “My, you do have things to say. If Millie is bothering you, I can move her. Her previous teachers did let me know that she was like that, making notes and such.”

            Knowing it was probably better to have her close by so he could keep an eye on her, Jace shook his head and replied. “It’s okay. For now, I guess.”

            “Mr. Connor, if you ever happen to catch a glimpse of her ‘files,’ please do let me know… if she’s written anything about me,” Ms. Porter asked, with a worried look.

            Jace couldn’t explain how the first day of school, despite being among the easiest, always felt the longest. But it was over, and while he had no desire to repeat the entire year, he expected the rest of the days to feel a little breezier by comparison. Thinking about this, he got on his bus feeling relieved and dropped onto one of its brown seats.

            Other kids of all grades boarded after him, making as much noise as possible it seemed, just as they had in his time. The big difference in his era was that most of them shut up and got on their phones once the bus began moving. Jace knew that wouldn’t be the case at present, so he fully expected a lot of loud banter all the way home.

            He sat in the back like usual, but couldn’t get a moment to relax—because Millie had just boarded, and for some terrifying reason, she was heading his way. He scrunched down and watched in disbelief as she came closer, and ended up in the row next to him.

            “Hi,” she said with another mischievous grin and took out a different notebook.

            She put her backpack on her lap, and used it as a writing desk as she scribbled yet more junk onto those awful pages full of audience-of-one libel.

            “Again?” Jace muttered angrily.

            “Huh?” Millie looked over and stopped her writing. “You say something?”

            “Y-yeah… I… I want you to stop writing about me. It’s really uncomfortable and freaky. I’m not even that interesting. S-so… pick someone else to write about. Okay?”

            She let out a mocking laugh. “I’m working on a letter to my pen pal in Arizona, you doofus. Sheesh. You aren’t the only person I write about, or to, you know.”

            “Fine, but I’m sure you still wrote a whole ton of bad stuff about me today. And I wish you wouldn’t. What’s your deal with me, anyway?”

            She frowned and looked overly serious. “Because… Because I like you, okay?”

            Jace scoffed. “Come on, don’t be weirder and creepier than you already are.”

            “That’s not nice. Hey, you’re the one that moved into The Flamingo. I know about everyone who lives there. It’s mostly old—but interesting—people. You’re now the only other kid there, and you go to my class. So, no duh I’m going to write about you.” She then added, rather forwardly, “Not like I have any friends my age…”

            All Jace could think to say was, “Oh.”

            Awesome, he thought. He was suddenly beginning to feel sorry for her. And with that admission, she didn’t say another word the rest of the ride to their shared home.

            Those who got off near The Flamingo did so, though only Jace and Millie headed to the apartments. She sped-walked past him, in a hurry to get home. She also greeted by name the out and about senior citizens, and they smiled back. They clearly liked her.

            Jace almost knocked on the wrong door, and after finding the correct one, he noticed that it was slightly ajar. He pushed it open to find Wes typing away at the computer, which was still sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

            “You left the door unlocked, man,” Jace said, throwing his backpack on the sofa.

            “Yeah, I didn’t want to get up to answer it and break my concentration here.”

            “What are you doing?” Jace asked and headed to the fridge to grab a water bottle.

            “I broke into Royal University’s media department records. Made it look like the equipment got returned so we can keep it indefinitely. You know, to monitor stuff.”

            “Wow. That’s kind of scummy. And I didn’t know you were a hacker.”

            “I’m not. But I’ve learned enough over the years to take on the university’s not-so-good 90s security tech. Sort of. I’ve… uh, been at this for hours. How was school?”

            “Not a nightmare, I guess.” Jace sat on the couch and gulped down some water. “It was kind of wild, yet familiar. But if I hear the word ‘cool’ one more time…”

            “Heh. I guess you discovered the most vital thing to some 1995 ten-year-olds pretty fast. Make any progress with Wessy and the others?”

            “They don’t hate my guts, at least. I stopped things from getting bad with Jared.”

            “Oh, yeah, you gotta keep the peace with that guy. He still thinks he’s the tough one of the group, and if he thinks you’re a threat, he’ll ruin you to the others.”

            “I gotta find my ‘cool’ thing if I’m going to win them over, Unk.”

            “We’ll work on that. Okay, hold on…” He typed out one last command, and then hit the enter key decisively. “There we go! All equipment returned. Officially.”

            “Do you know anything about… Millie Vanbusen? She might be a problem.”

            Wes stood up and faced Jace. “Millie? Hm.” He rubbed his chin. “Right, she was one of the kids that kept to herself and just about disappeared from memory.”

            “Don’t you know anything about her? She’s writing about me, dude. If she gets too nosy, she might screw things up for us. Maybe cause a world-destroying paradox.”

            “Bud, relax. I don’t remember her that much personally, but I did my homework on all my classmates from this year. Come on. Let’s take a look.”

            He led Jace into his room, where he took his locked metal case out from the closet. After Wes made him sit on the bed’s side where he couldn’t steal a glance of its contents, he opened it and took out a book and his iPad in one fast movement.

            “You ever going to give me a peek inside that thing?” Jace wondered.

            His secretive uncle only replied by putting it back in the closet, and closing the padlock with a click. Jace rolled his eyes at all the security measures.

            Wes sat at the edge of the bed near him and opened the book—which turned out to be a 1996-1997 yearbook from sixth grade; his first year of middle school.

            “I knew this would be useful,” he said as he flipped through the pages full of smiling, dorky preteens. “It lets me see who’s still around at Cookton Middle.”

            “Useful how, exactly?”

            “Anyone Wessy—me—is around with past elementary would remember him better. Making them people we don’t want to mess with, more so than those who move onto other schools and let Wessy and his friends fade into distant, childhood memories. And it looks like…” He closed the book. “I guess she did go to Cookton, but I only saw her portrait; no group shots. Strange. I have no memory of her there, or at high school.”

            He tossed the book to the corner of the bed and got on his tablet. Jace watched as he opened his Notes app and opened a detailed file. He quickly recognized a list of names—all belonging to the kids that he had just met to varying degrees.

            “I did what research I could on where the entire class is in 2020. Some of them don’t even exist on social media, but Millie is… Okay, I wrote that she has a Facebook page. No kids or partner that I could tell. Two friends… Ech. Now I feel sorry for her.”

            “So… you’re saying, like, it wouldn’t really matter if she just disappeared?”

            “Oh, yeah, Jace! I’m totally into abducting the young versions of my classmates.”

            “Well, I mean, she could find out about us. She was writing about me all day.”

            “I do sorta recall spying being her ‘thing.’ Think she knows about us already?”

            “No. Hopefully. But what if she keeps spying on me and finds out?”

            “Don’t give her an excuse to keep an eye on you. All the more reason to get in with Wessy’s crew; if you’re just another of the ‘cool’ kids, she’ll probably lose interest. Hey, if we have to, we’ll steal a young girl’s diary and find out what she suspects.”

            “You’re saying I could become less interesting… and cool at the same time?”

            “Honestly, it was all subjective anyway. But, yeah, if you discover what she’d find really boring, I bet you can use that to drop out of her line of sight.”

            “She said I’m the only other kid that lives in this place, so I dunno how easy…”

            “She lives here?! I had no idea. Okay. All right, I’ll come up with some ‘Vanbusen contingency plans.’ If we cause a paradox, we don’t want it to be named after a ‘Millie.’”

            “And what about coming up with something that’ll make me ‘cool?’ You were Wessy. You should know what he, or you, would find neat. By the way… were the twins really in a clothing ad? Like, some big JCPenney commercial or something?”

            “You found out about that? Heh, yeah… It wasn’t that big a deal. They were in a full-page ad, in a Sunday catalog for a small regional chain. Here, check this out. A few years ago, their mom sent me a scanned copy from the one she kept.”

            Wes flipped through his photo album until he found the digitized version. Arthur and Ash, maybe about five years old, were smiling and standing back-to-back, with their arms crossed—the quintessential “kids with attitude” look. Above the dressed-up pair sporting their bright, fun, and geometric 1990 digs was one big word in red: “HIP!”

            “I would find that more embarrassing than cool,” Jace stated. “If… I’d been in it.”

            “Again, it’s all subjective. But that’s actually a good thing, since it means we just have to impress Wessy and his friends, instead of, like, the entire world.”

            Jace noticed that Wes was staring at the ad, or maybe past it, with contemplative and distant eyes. That was unusual, outside of a few instances of his “nostalgia attacks.”

            “Yo, Uncle Wes… Is there something up with you and Ash? Like, you didn’t tell me about her at all before King Arcade, and you’re still kind of… weird about her?”

            “Eh.” Wes sighed and hit the home button to close the picture. “I miss my entire circle and class, but a few of the kids more than others, ya know? As you get older, some of them stand out in different ways. She just happens to be someone I think about in a specific kind of light. No, that doesn’t mean Wessy is crushing on her. They’re… we’re just friends. And…” He suddenly stood. “Okay, this is getting too feely. Let’s go.”

            With Wes on his feet and ready to move, Jace asked, “Now where?”

            “To see Desperado. It’s cool. Violent, but cool. You earned a flick after surviving a repeat first day. And then,” he turned to Jace and proclaimed, “we get to work on you.”

            Feeling that semantic satiation, Jace groaned, “Can we not say ‘cool’ for a while?”