the two of them never lay eyes on one another.
“Hey, everyone!” my mother’s voice calls from the rear of the store. “I’m back!”
Seriously?!?!
Fate is moving faster than me, but it’s not over yet. Mom will stop in the bathroom to wash up before she gets near the dogs. She always does that when she first comes in the store. That gives me about thirty seconds to make a move, because something tells me that if Mom and this guy even make eye contact, it’s all over.
I leap to my feet and furiously scratch my arms and legs.
“The dogs didn’t bite me,” I explain. “It’s the
fleas.
”
“Fleas?” he asks, wide-eyed.
I cross my hands and rake my fingers up and down my arms, hopping from leg to leg like the itchiness is unbearable. “It’s the worst,” I say. “You’re not feeling it?”
He reaches a hand to his bald head and gives a tentative scratch. I want to smile but instead scratch at my neck and bounce miserably. “Ugh, I can’t even take it!”
“I think I see them jumping,” he says, lightly scratching at his own neck. “Little black spots, right?”
I give a final all-over scratch and then shake my head. “I’m out. I can’t deal.”
I push out of the puppy pen and out the front door. I don’t look back, but I can hear and feel him following right behind. I walk to the nail salon two doors down before I turn around and face him, still scratching at my arms. “Did you get bit?”
“Maybe,” he says, absently scratching his forearm. “Glad to be out of there, though. Thanks for the heads-up!” He walks off the curb and into the parking lot, still scratching at phantom itches, and I keep watching until he gets into his car and drives away. Only then do I stop pretending to scratch my own fake bites and smile.
I have to say, it’s been a pretty amazing day. No horrible new husband for Mom, doubtlessly stellar SAT scores for myself…How could it possibly get any better?
I grin as I think of a way. I glance around. There’s a bunch of people walking to and from their cars and ducking in and out of the stores, but everyone’s minding their own business. No one will notice if I pop out for a bit, especially since Jenna and I established that I won’t even be gone for a nanosecond in their time. Still, just to be safe I push myself up against the brick wall between the nail salon and a Chinese restaurant before I tug on the chain around my neck and pull out my dad’s locket. I smile at the
zemi
on the cover.
“I think we did it, Dad,” I say. “I think we changed everything. Let’s check.”
I open the locket to make sure nothing shifted. It’s still set for the exact same date as last time. Then I close the lid, grip the locket tight, and concentrate.
Show me what I did, Daddy. Show me how things are different than they were before.
I’m in a hallway. It’s very stark and white. White walls, white shiny floor, white fluorescent lights. Lots of doors. The place is instantly familiar somehow, but I can’t put my finger on why.
The loud
clip-clop
of shoes gets my attention, and I spin around.
“Yes!” I shout happily. “Look at you! You’re gorgeous! You look amazing!”
I’m talking to myself, weirdly enough, but a me who looks a million times better than the frumpy folded-into-herself nothing I met up with last time. This me wears gorgeous dark-wash designer jeans, knee-high black quilted boots, and a fitted black leather jacket with zippers in places that don’t even make sense but look seriously hot. I carry a small black wristlet, and my hair…This me is a girl who wouldn’t dream of dyeing her hair a mousy blend-in brown. My hair is so vibrantly orange I swear it shoots off rays like the sun, and my makeup and jewelry are so perfect I could give tips to Amalita or Reenzie.
I race up to myself, beyond excited to see me.
“I’m so proud of you, girl!” I say, though Future Me is in a serious hurry and doesn’t break stride for even a second.
“Hey, everyone!” my mother’s voice calls from the rear of the store. “I’m back!”
Seriously?!?!
Fate is moving faster than me, but it’s not over yet. Mom will stop in the bathroom to wash up before she gets near the dogs. She always does that when she first comes in the store. That gives me about thirty seconds to make a move, because something tells me that if Mom and this guy even make eye contact, it’s all over.
I leap to my feet and furiously scratch my arms and legs.
“The dogs didn’t bite me,” I explain. “It’s the
fleas.
”
“Fleas?” he asks, wide-eyed.
I cross my hands and rake my fingers up and down my arms, hopping from leg to leg like the itchiness is unbearable. “It’s the worst,” I say. “You’re not feeling it?”
He reaches a hand to his bald head and gives a tentative scratch. I want to smile but instead scratch at my neck and bounce miserably. “Ugh, I can’t even take it!”
“I think I see them jumping,” he says, lightly scratching at his own neck. “Little black spots, right?”
I give a final all-over scratch and then shake my head. “I’m out. I can’t deal.”
I push out of the puppy pen and out the front door. I don’t look back, but I can hear and feel him following right behind. I walk to the nail salon two doors down before I turn around and face him, still scratching at my arms. “Did you get bit?”
“Maybe,” he says, absently scratching his forearm. “Glad to be out of there, though. Thanks for the heads-up!” He walks off the curb and into the parking lot, still scratching at phantom itches, and I keep watching until he gets into his car and drives away. Only then do I stop pretending to scratch my own fake bites and smile.
I have to say, it’s been a pretty amazing day. No horrible new husband for Mom, doubtlessly stellar SAT scores for myself…How could it possibly get any better?
I grin as I think of a way. I glance around. There’s a bunch of people walking to and from their cars and ducking in and out of the stores, but everyone’s minding their own business. No one will notice if I pop out for a bit, especially since Jenna and I established that I won’t even be gone for a nanosecond in their time. Still, just to be safe I push myself up against the brick wall between the nail salon and a Chinese restaurant before I tug on the chain around my neck and pull out my dad’s locket. I smile at the
zemi
on the cover.
“I think we did it, Dad,” I say. “I think we changed everything. Let’s check.”
I open the locket to make sure nothing shifted. It’s still set for the exact same date as last time. Then I close the lid, grip the locket tight, and concentrate.
Show me what I did, Daddy. Show me how things are different than they were before.
I’m in a hallway. It’s very stark and white. White walls, white shiny floor, white fluorescent lights. Lots of doors. The place is instantly familiar somehow, but I can’t put my finger on why.
The loud
clip-clop
of shoes gets my attention, and I spin around.
“Yes!” I shout happily. “Look at you! You’re gorgeous! You look amazing!”
I’m talking to myself, weirdly enough, but a me who looks a million times better than the frumpy folded-into-herself nothing I met up with last time. This me wears gorgeous dark-wash designer jeans, knee-high black quilted boots, and a fitted black leather jacket with zippers in places that don’t even make sense but look seriously hot. I carry a small black wristlet, and my hair…This me is a girl who wouldn’t dream of dyeing her hair a mousy blend-in brown. My hair is so vibrantly orange I swear it shoots off rays like the sun, and my makeup and jewelry are so perfect I could give tips to Amalita or Reenzie.
I race up to myself, beyond excited to see me.
“I’m so proud of you, girl!” I say, though Future Me is in a serious hurry and doesn’t break stride for even a second.
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