There was an extreme screaming sound in my ears as I opened my eyes to see Coach Register yelling at me.

“Dennereck! You alright?” He barked in a voice that would never sound calming to anyone.

I nodded and stood up.

I was back at school.

“That was a major hit,” Keith replied as he brushed at the dust on my shirt.

“Yeah,” I answered as I looked around and saw about every other guy in PE playing soccer, turning the center of the track into a mosh pit. “What hit?”

“You had the ball, got ready to kick it and then the entire defensive line-all twenty-five of them—came at you.”

I felt a splitting headache, not from being a human pinball, but from not knowing about how I got to school to begin with. I was in a house with my future family and the next thing I felt was several tons of dead weight stacked on me.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Keith asked as he flashed up different fingers.

“Zip it, Grayson!” Coach Register ordered and Keith stepped back.

“I’m okay, coach. I just need some water,” I replied as I walked over to the school building and laid my head against the brick wall. Keith followed me over.

“If it was anyone else, Jason, I would have thought it was hysterical.”

“Did I bring the flowers?” I asked.

“You just got dog-piled by five hundred pounds of seventh graders, and you want to know about the flowers?”

I nodded.

“They’re in your locker.”

I closed my eyes and I could see Jaye’s face. Each time I opened and closed my eyes, I could see each member of the family, my family.

“How long was I out?”

“No idea man,” Keith replied. “It took a minute to get everyone off you.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, just, did we talk about anything on the bus?”

“You’re honestly asking me that? Who do you always talk about?”

“Charlotte?”

“Who. Is. That? Is that Tiffany’s middle name?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I lied, as her middle name was Amber, but I’d say anything at that point. “It is.”

Keith took another look at me, clapped his hands, and put them near my head. “What is today’s date?”

“The twentieth?”

“I don’t know really, but that sounds right,” Keith replied. “You should get cleaned up. If you’re going to give her those flowers you don’t want to
look like you took on the Auburn defense and lost.”

I washed my knees and hands in a restroom sink. There wasn’t much I could do about the dust all over my clothes. I stared at myself in the mirror, even with the dirt cleaned off, my face still looked like it took a beating.

I turned around to see my dead ringer leaning against the wall.

“Is,” I walked away from the sink, further away from the door, “is that my future?”

“No, it’s my present and, as I keep on saying, we need to change it.”

“Why?”

“Are you kidding me? You do know who we were thinking all through the eighth grade and well into the ninth?”

“Charlotte?”

He put his hands down, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Let’s concentrate on the now. The flowers are in your locker, so you need to put them in your backpack, take them to your math class and then find a way to get to Mrs. Smith’s math class to give them to her as she leaves.” He leaned in close and smiled. “It’s a simple plan, really.”

“But—”

“There are no buts,” he interjected.

“We’re married. We have what looks like a great life—”

“There was always a feeling that another life existed. I’m here to make that life exist.”

“But what about Jaye?”

He stopped.

“Anaïs? Serena?”

His hand tightened around the edge of the sink.

“What happens to them if we change it?”

“They’re not your kids. We’re going to do this. One of us will finally try to make it happen!”

He moved to the door, opened it and walked out. I was about to shout back at him but three boys stormed into the restroom. I maneuvered around them, went out the door, and bolted down the hallway. He said one of us would make it happen. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, but I knew I couldn’t let him decide for me.

I darted down the eighth grade hall, running past towering giants, until turning the corner, dashing past the office, until I reached my locker. The
tumblers clicked and clacked until the latch finally opened. My backpack was still there, along with the roses. I wanted to stop and think about things, but knew he would be coming for them, so I decided not to make it easy for him.

I grabbed the flowers as carefully as I could as my hands shook. Then the locker door slammed shut, missing my hands by a centimeter. My—judging by the look in his eyes— evil twin—stood to my left.

“I’ve thought about her for thirty-seven years,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And I’ve thought about her every day too.”

“Then you understand.”

“I understand that I don’t want to become you!”

I pushed the flowers against my chest and ran.

“Jason!”

I didn’t look back.

“Stop!”

“Shut it!” I yelled back as I threw the door open at the end of the hall, jumped down the steps and darted up the covered walkway to the new building. I had no idea if he was behind me or not, so I kept going, I ducked around two girls and nearly slammed into Mr. Jackson.

“Jason! Stop running!”

“I wish I could, sir!” I shouted back as I approached the corner to the band room and my homeroom class.

I made it another five feet, almost making it to Mrs. Smith’s room before someone once again grabbed my shoulder and jerked me backward.

“Give me the flowers!”

“No!”

The roses fell out of my hand and the petals barely touched the floor before I scooped them up and a hand grabbed onto the middle of the stem.

“Let go,” my wannabe demanded.

“What happens to Jaye!”

“Jason, please—”

“What happens to her?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Make me understand then!”

He pulled at the stems and I pulled harder. One of them snapped between us.

“You want this,” he said.

“I only wanted Tiffany.”

“Exactly.”

“Before I knew about them!”

Something changed in his face and for a second, he wasn’t angry anymore, he looked hurt. Then he yanked the roses and my fingers slipped from the stems, and I stumbled backward into the wall. Pain shot through my shoulder.

He turned to the door to Mrs. Smith’s room. “You’ll thank me for this.”

“No, I won’t.”

He turned away.

“Jason!” I yelled as he kept walking away.

I pushed myself away from the wall and ran after him. He reached the doorway to Mrs. Smith’s classroom and I closed my eyes.