The Future of Us

30://Emma

MARTIN SETS A BOWL of dry oats and raisins on the counter. “It’s muesli,” he says, reaching for his soy milk. “The Swiss eat it for breakfast, and it’s definitely growing on your mom and me.”

“Good to know,” I say.

I drop a frozen Eggo waffle in the toaster and look out the window at Josh’s driveway. His parents’ car is still there. I wish they would leave so I can yank him back here to check Facebook.

Martin slides into the breakfast nook. “Have you ever seen the statistics on life expectancy in Switzerland?”

I hover over the toaster, willing my waffle to pop up, willing Martin to shut up, and willing Josh’s parents to get a move on.

My mom strolls in. “Ready to leave? I thought we could swing by the paint store on the way to work.”

“I just have to finish my muesli,” Martin says.

My mom sets her coffee mug in the sink. “Emma, did you call your father and thank him for the computer yet?”

I hate the way she calls him “your father.” Up until last year he was “Dad.” “Not yet,” I say, dousing my waffle with syrup. “I started an email to him, but I haven’t sent it yet.”

“He left a message on Monday to see if it arrived,” my mom says. “When you call, you should also ask him about their new baby. Rachel must be five weeks old already.”

I’m not in the mood to call my dad and talk about the computer. The whole issue is too weird right now. Thankfully, I hear Josh’s front door shut. I hurry to the window and watch his parents back their car down the driveway. Then I grab my plate and fork and slip out the door.

I PRESS JOSH’S DOORBELL for the third time and peer through the window. His backpack is on the side table, which means he hasn’t left for school yet. I look behind a potted plant, relieved to see they haven’t moved the emergency key. Balancing my waffle plate in one hand, I let myself in.

There’s loud music coming from Josh’s room.

“Josh?” I call from the bottom of the stairs.

No answer.

I haven’t been in this house since December. It was a few weeks after Josh tried to kiss me, and we were barely talking. When my mom said she and Martin were going next door for dinner and television, I invited myself along in the hopes of getting a few minutes to speak with Josh. But he inhaled his food in three minutes, and then disappeared up to his room.

The entire wall next to the staircase is filled with pictures of Josh and David at every stage of development, every class picture, every bad haircut. They even have clay impressions of their handprints next to framed locks of their baby curls.

I take a bite of my waffle and then knock on Josh’s door. Inside, he’s blasting the song “Walking on Sunshine.”

Through the door, I can hear Josh sing, “And don’t it feel GOOD!”

I turn the knob, open the door, and—

He’s doing sit-ups in his tighty-whities! His chest looks toned, but… tighty-whities?

“Emma!”

I laugh as Josh rips the sheet off his bed and wraps it around his waist.

His face is instantly red. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“I did knock,” I say, bobbing my head to the beat. “But the bigger question is, haven’t you heard of boxers?”

Josh reaches for a pair of pants and pulls them on under the sheet.

I take another bite of waffle and look around his room. It looks the same as before, with clothes on the floor, a Tony Hawk poster above his dresser, and Cindy Crawford above his bed. There’s a can of markers for his art, and some old skateboard wheels on the floor. The only thing different are Josh’s free weights. They were hand-me-downs from his brother, but ever since David left, they’ve been stashed in Josh’s closet. Now they’re in the middle of his floor.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, slipping his arms into a T-shirt.

“I need you to come over so we can go on Facebook,” I say. “I can’t stop thinking about Kevin Storm. And I saw a baby picture of myself last night that looks so much like—”

“Sure,” Josh says. “Go ahead.”

“Without you? You’re not worried I’ll ruin your future?”

“Just don’t call Jordan Jones again, and don’t try to find Kevin Storm’s number. I’ll come over when I finish up here.”

I notice the phone on his floor, surrounded by the only patch of carpet without clothes or magazines. I wonder if Sydney’s called him yet.

When I click on his name, nothing happens. I try again. Nothing! Kevin’s name isn’t highlighted blue, so I’m guessing he doesn’t have a Facebook page of his own.

I look down on the screen to see what I’ve written in this future.

I have no idea what I’m talking about, but if Netflix plus Glee equals my life, I’m hoping those are good things. I keep scrolling down.

Boys? I told Josh we shouldn’t get too attached to our future children, but it’s hard to believe I’ll never see Olivia’s plump cheeks again.

Six people have commented, everything from “Congrats, Luke!” to “I dunno… maybe a dollar?” But it’s the last comment that stands out.

I’m tempted to click on Kellan’s name, but I promised Josh I would only look up Kevin Storm, so I force myself to stay on my own page. Mostly, I talk about my boys and Netflix, which seems to be a new way to watch movies.

I have a computer in my car? Josh is going to freak out when he hears this. And if Kevin saved a life, maybe he’s a doctor. Or a paramedic. Or a fireman! That’d be cool because firemen have great bodies.

I read through the comments of various people congratulating Kevin. The man in the eighth photo has graying hair and… it’s my dad!

My eyes sting with tears. Seeing my dad’s name makes me miss him so much more right now.

I have no idea what a text is, but I can’t help smiling. The other times we looked at Facebook, Josh’s name was always in my Friends category, but we weren’t talking back and forth like this.

Then my mind catches something I missed earlier. I scroll up to the comment Kellan left about the Tooth Fairy, and lean in to get a closer look at her picture. She has the same long black hair and the same devilish smile. She’s wearing a black shirt and dangly silver earrings. Josh isn’t here, but this is too big to ignore. I need to look at Kellan’s webpage.

I click on her photo.

The most recent thing she wrote was back in February.

Fifteen years from now, Kellan is a single mother with a fourteen-year-old daughter. That means—

There’s a loud knock at my door. I back-click until I return to my page.

Josh grins as he strolls in. “That was called knocking. And not that it’s any of your business, but you’ll be happy to know I’m wearing boxers now.”

I smile weakly. All I can think about is whether to tell Josh about Kellan. I should, but I don’t want to create any more ripples that could ruin either one of our futures.

Josh leans over my shoulder and looks at the screen. “How are things this morning?”

“Now, or in fifteen years?”

“Fifteen years,” he says. “How are the Storms?”

“We’re fine,” I say.

Josh points to the screen. “Look! I’m talking to your dad! And now I have twins again?”

I get out of my chair. “You can click over to your page if you want. I have to finish getting ready for school.”

Josh sits at my computer, and I walk into my mom’s room. I close the door and sink onto the foot of her bed. If Lindsay is fourteen, and Facebook is fifteen years from now, then Kellan must become pregnant in the next few months.

Unless she already is.

31://Josh

I JUMP OUT OF EMMA’S CHAIR and slide open her window. A van drives up the street, the high-pitched drone of its engine growing louder until it eventually shifts gears. At Wagner Park, someone tosses a glass bottle into a garbage bin. It clanks, but doesn’t shatter.

Perfect! If my home phone rings, I shouldn’t have trouble hearing it.

I return to Emma’s computer and look again at the most important bit of information.

I click where it says Photos. Emma and I need to leave for school soon, so rather than reading through dozens of short statements that hardly make sense, I want to see what my future looks like.

The first square is labeled:

When I open the album, twelve new squares slowly load. The first one is only half filled-in, but I already love what it shows. The house is literally on the shore of Crown Lake. According to Mom and Dad, that’s the most expensive location in town. The rest of the photo appears, revealing a wraparound porch leading to a long wooden dock. Either Sydney inherited a fortune, or my graphic design business is booming!

In the second picture, I’m laying on a hammock with identical red-headed boys. I don’t think we have twins anywhere in my family, but for Sydney and me to have twins in two of my futures is a bizarre coincidence.

In the next picture I’m standing in front of the house waving at the camera. My other arm is around… is that David? I click to enlarge the photo.

David is standing with one arm around me and his other arm around a guy with short brown hair and sunglasses. We’re all smiling. Beneath the picture, it says:

So he goes by Dave in the future. Sorry, bro, but I’m still calling you David. When I scroll the arrow over his name, it turns into a hand. I glance at the door. Emma’s still not back. Anyway, she wouldn’t care if I checked on David. He’s family.

David’s page says he now lives in Bellingham, Washington, and works as a computer engineer.

Then I notice something else.

Okay, that’s… um… I don’t…

Emma walks in and plops on her bed. “Anything interesting?”

“Nope!”

I click the red X in the corner. Facebook disappears, and AOL says, “Goodbye!”

“Sorry,” I say quickly. I’m a little shaken by what I just saw. “Do you want me to sign back on?”

Emma tilts her head and smirks at me. “Tell me truthfully, did you change your underwear because I made fun of you?”

“No,” I say. But the answer is yes. Emma walking in on me was embarrassing enough. But there’s no telling when a girl I actually have a chance with might get a glimpse of my underwear. I don’t want her first thought to be Haven’t you heard of boxers?

After Emma left my house, I took a shower and swiped some boxers from my dad’s drawer. They were in an unopened pack, and they’re a little loose, but they work. I’m planning to buy a few pairs of my own after school.

“Remember, I can tell when you’re lying,” Emma says. “And if you did that for Sydney’s sake, it’s kind of sad. Because if you think about it, you don’t even know her.”

“I don’t know her yet,” I say. “But it’s going to happen.”

“Oh, really? Did she call you last night?”

That is the question I was hoping to avoid.

“Because if she didn’t,” Emma continues, “maybe she’s having second thoughts.”

I don’t say anything. What if Emma’s right? Sydney and I really don’t know each other. Maybe she noticed me in Peer Issues sooner than she was supposed to, and now everything’s rippling in ways that will push us apart.

Emma leans over my shoulder and signs back on to AOL.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting her to call me right away.”

Before I came over, I carried my phone into the bathroom and plugged it into the jack near the medicine cabinet. I opened the bathroom window and set the phone on the sill. If it rings, I should be able to hear it from Emma’s bedroom. Then I took the cordless phone from my parents’ room and placed it by the front door. That way I can leave Emma’s house, sprint across our yards, and answer the cordless before Sydney hangs up.

“You’re right,” Emma says. “She wouldn’t call you right away. She’s going to play hard to get.”

“Do you think so?” I ask.

“Those are the rules,” Emma says.

Emma and Kellan spend hours talking about relationships and taking quizzes in magazines. Whenever I contribute my two cents, they just laugh and call me clueless.

Emma scrolls through some comments on her Facebook page, reading each one carefully.

“It’s hard to tell,” she says, “but I think Kevin Storm may be a firefighter. Or a doctor.”

Even if Sydney plays hard to get, she’ll call me eventually. Otherwise, why would she ask for my number? I hate that Emma’s trying to put doubts in my mind.

“Good for you,” I say. “So he’s better than Jordan Jones. Did you find anything else on there?”

Emma stares at the screen. I shouldn’t have asked that question when I wouldn’t answer it honestly myself. I told her I didn’t find anything interesting, but my brother ends up in a relationship with someone named Phillip!

“Nothing new,” Emma says. “But I have been thinking about your list, the one with people you want to look up. I’m not sure if—”

I remove the folded-up piece of paper from my backpack. Emma grabs it and turns it around, then starts reading through the names. I want to say we should crumple up the list and not check on anyone after all. If what I saw about David is true, then what else will we find that people may not want us to know?

“Eww!” Emma shoves the paper back at me. “Why did you put Kyle Simpson on there?”

I laugh. “What are you talking about? You dated the guy.”

“Barely! And I have no desire to find out what’s going on in his future.”

“He’s probably a Chippendale dancer,” I say. “Or he runs a nudist colony, or—”

“Stop!” Emma tosses me a pen and says, “If you insist on looking people up, cross him off.”

I cross him off, knowing we should eventually cross off every name. But if I say that to Emma, she’ll know I’m hiding something from her.

“I never understood how someone can go from dateable to eww,” I say. “I hope no one I’ve gone out with thinks of me that way.”

“I’m sure they don’t,” Emma says. “But I never really liked Kyle before he asked me out. He was just there. Like that girl in Seattle for you.”

After I got back from spring break, I talked about the Seattle girl a lot during lunch. I showed off a school picture she gave me where she wrote her phone number on the back in purple ink. I passed around the picture because she was pretty, but I also wanted to make Emma jealous.

“That was different,” I say. “A long-distance relationship is one thing. But hanging out every day when you don’t really like someone, isn’t that hard? I’d rather already like someone at the beginning, and then fall madly in love with them over time.”

“So you like Sydney?” Emma asks.

I look out toward my house. The telephone is sitting silently on my bathroom windowsill. I want to say, Yes, of course I like Sydney. She’s beautiful, and whenever I’ve seen her talking to people she always seems nice. But can I see myself falling madly in love with her? That must happen, right?

“You and I are different that way,” Emma says. “You’re always looking for something long-term, and you’ll stay with that person until you know for sure it’s not right. That’s why I know you weren’t being honest when you said you broke up with the girl from Seattle. You only said positive things about her, so you never would have broken up with her.”

Emma’s looking at me with a gentle smile, no judgment.

“That’s not what you’re looking for?” I ask.

“It’s what makes you great boyfriend material, but it also means you’re going to get your heart broken a lot.” Emma nods toward the list in my hand. “I don’t think we should look up any of these people.”

I tear a clean line down the middle of the paper. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Great,” Emma says. “We won’t look up Kellan or… or Tyson… or anyone.”

“My brother, my parents, none of them,” I add. “Because what if something bad happens between now and the future? If we can’t find out exactly what happens, it would drive us crazy trying to figure it out.”

“And some people,” Emma says, “don’t seem to have a page. Like Kevin Storm. So we might try to look someone up and think they died if we can’t find them.”

“New rule,” I say. “If someone pops up on our webpage, that’s cool. But no digging.”

Emma smiles. “No digging.”

At that moment, I hear a faint sound coming through the window. Is that…?

My phone is ringing!

Emma points toward the door. “Just go, Romeo. But we should leave soon or we’ll be late for school.”

I bolt.

32://Emma

ON THE DRIVE TO SCHOOL, Josh and I barely speak. He’s looking out his window and jiggling his knee up and down. I bet he’s thinking about Sydney. He hasn’t said anything, but I’m guessing it was her who called.

“Do we have time to swing by Sunshine Donuts?” Josh asks.

I glance at the clock on my dashboard. “I don’t think so. We’re already late.”

Josh leans his head against the window and closes his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t Sydney who called, after all. Or maybe Josh didn’t make it to the phone in time. Either way, he’s on edge.

There are so many unknowns for both of us. I want to figure out what Kevin Storm does for a living. Saving a life could mean so many things. I’m hoping it means he has a take-charge personality, which is one thing that’s always attracted me to Cody. When Ruby sprained her ankle at a meet last month, Cody swooped in with an ice pack. I joked with Ruby that it made me want to get a sports injury, too.

But then I think about Kellan, and I’m the one on edge. Kellan—who bought my first box of tampons because I couldn’t stop laughing in the aisle of the drugstore—may be pregnant right now. She didn’t even tell me she was having sex, and that pisses me off. We tell each other everything.

Or maybe Kellan hasn’t had sex yet. If that’s the case, it’ll be happening soon. But how can I sit by and watch Kellan become a teen mom? She wants to go to Penn State, and dreams of becoming a doctor or a scientist. Can she do all that with a baby screaming in the background? She might not even be able to finish high school.

The school parking lot is crowded, and the only remaining spots are way over by the field house. I pull into one and glance at Josh. He hasn’t said a word since he asked about donuts.

WHEN I SLIP INTO BAND, Mr. Markowitz doesn’t notice I’m late. He’s busy going over the lineup for this weekend’s Memorial Day parade with the girls from color guard.

I have a feeling Josh won’t be so lucky with his homeroom teacher, and that’s slightly satisfying. The way he went scrambling for his phone this morning was annoying. And I don’t understand why he didn’t just tell me if Sydney called. When I called my first husband, at least I had the guts to tell Josh about it.

Whatever. Josh can talk to whoever he wants. I have Kevin Storm waiting for me. But the problem is, that’s fifteen years from now. Today, while Josh is getting serious with Sydney Mills, I still have to deal with—

“Emma.”

Graham.

He taps his drumsticks against my thigh. “How’s it going?” he asks, sliding into the empty seat next to me. “I thought you’d be interested to know that my parents are going away this weekend. That means I’ll have a free house.”

“I assumed that’s what you meant.”

“So you can come over and we won’t have any interruptions.”

I stare at my sheet music. Last night, when I was thinking about life with Kevin Storm, I vowed to end things with Graham.

“Do you want to go to that bonfire on Friday night?” he asks. “We could stop by my place afterward.”

I think about what Josh said this morning. Hanging out every day when you don’t really like someone, isn’t that hard?

“I can’t do this,” I say.

Graham spins a drumstick between his fingers. “Can’t do what?”

“You and me. Not anymore.”

“Is this because Josh saw us the other day? If you want, I can talk to him.”

“No.” I take a deep breath. “This has nothing to with Josh. I just need to be on my own for a while. It’s nothing you did, but I—”

“Okay.” Graham runs his hands over his prickly scalp. “I’m not going to try to change your mind. We always said we were going to keep things low-key.”

Graham smiles sadly, and then holds out his arms like he’s waiting for a hug. As I lean in toward him, I notice how similar this feels to my breakup with Dylan, and even with Kyle. Unlike other people’s breakups, I never have too much drama. When Josh and Rebecca Alvarez broke up, he moped around in his room for weeks. When my mom and Erik divorced, she must have cried for a month. And when Tyson dumped Kellan—

Kellan!

I need to tell Josh about her pregnancy as soon as possible. I should have told him this morning. This isn’t something I want to handle on my own.

I SPOT JOSH in a crowded hall between third and fourth periods. I call his name, but he doesn’t respond. He’s standing with a sophomore girl and they’re both laughing. They turn and begin walking down the hall.

“Josh?” I shout again, but he still doesn’t respond. Or maybe he’s ignoring me? One call from Sydney and this is what happens!

I stand on my toes and watch them walk away. A few steps later, he reaches over and touches her back. That is so not something Josh would usually do.

“Emma?” a voice says.

I know that voice.

Slowly, I turn around. Cody Grainger is walking toward me.

33://Josh

SOMETIMES I’LL HEAR a song on the radio that launches my mood into a higher orbit. Even though I’d happily erase the moment Emma burst in on me in my underwear, “Walking on Sunshine” has been looping through my head all morning. It plays when I walk down the halls, sit in class, and say hi to people at their lockers.

When I answered the cordless phone this morning, no one responded. But then I heard Sydney’s distant voice say, “He must be on his way here” before hanging up.

She called me from her cell phone! I haven’t seen her yet, but that call has lit my path with sunshine all morning. I absorb it through the soles of my feet and it tingles up my legs, across my chest, shoots down my fingers… and don’t it feel GOOD!

The sunshine is magnetic, too. All morning, guys who’ve never said more than What’s up? have stopped to talk to me. And the girls! Between my morning classes, three girls have walked with me, keeping my pace… and I have long legs.

Like Anna Bloom right now. After history, she caught up with me as I headed for the door. I ended up walking to her third-period class even though I have gym on the opposite side of school.

“If you ever want to work on history together,” she says, “feel free to give me a call.” She writes her number on the corner of my folder.

Anna smiles up at me and then heads into her classroom. I try not to be obvious, but I can’t help checking her out as she walks away. She’s cute! Then I turn and look down the hall. I swear someone had been calling my name while I was talking to Anna. It was distant, but it may have been Emma.

And there she is, at the far end of the hall, talking to…

Cody Grainger?

Good for her, I guess. Cody’s a conceited dick, but whatever makes her happy.

34://Emma

CODY SMILES AT ME.

He’s wearing a dark blue T-shirt with DUKE written across the chest. Everyone in track knows he was accepted there with a full athletic scholarship. As usual, he looks relaxed with his spiky blond hair, pale blue eyes, and a faint shadow on his jawline.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

My hands start to tremble. Kellan thinks I hold Cody up on a pedestal, but he totally deserves to be there.

“Great.” I shift my books from one hip to the other. “So… what’s your next class?”

“Photography,” he says.

“That sounds fun.” I fidget with the E on my necklace. “I’ve got World History.”

There’s a brief silence. I remind myself that one day I will have a respected career and a life-saving husband. Even though Cody’s presence turns my brain into mush, I attempt to channel the confidence I will someday have.

“Are you going to track later?” I ask. “I missed it yesterday.”

He nods. “So that’s why I saw you running in the park.”

“You saw me?”

I went running soon after Josh left. I couldn’t stand sitting in my room with the computer right there, not being able to check Facebook because I promised Josh I wouldn’t. It turned out to be a kick-ass loop. I did my best time yet, and even sprinted for a half-mile.

“You looked great,” Cody says, combing his hands through his spiky hair. “I was working out on the nautilus course and you ran right by me. I called your name, but you must not have heard.”

“I was listening to my Discman,” I say, unable to control a grin. Cody said I looked great!

“What were you listening to?” he asks.

“Yesterday? Mostly Dave Matthews. Hootie and the Blowfish. A little Green Day.”

“Green Day?” He nods approvingly. “‘Basket Case’ was the first song I learned on guitar.”

“You play guitar?”

Cody tells me about teaching himself to play, and I nod in all the appropriate places. I am so glad I ended things with Graham today.

“We should go running sometime,” he says. “Do you live near the park?”

I happen to know that Cody lives on the east side of the park, about ten minutes from my house. To be more precise, he lives in a one-story house with purple lilac bushes and a striped mailbox.

“I live near the playground,” I say.

“Great. I’m over by the baseball field,” he says.

“I used to play Little League there.”

“Me too,” Cody says. “Hey, if you like Dave Matthews, you should come over sometime. I have a live bootleg tape from a show in Vermont.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’d like that.”

Cody touches my shoulder and smiles. “Well, okay then.”

As I watch him walk down the hall, I realize this is yet another ripple brought on by Facebook. If Josh hadn’t ditched me yesterday to babysit his phone, I wouldn’t have gone for a run and Cody would never have seen me, prompting him to approach me today. And not just approach me… invite me to his house! I wonder if this ripple affects my future with Kevin, a man I don’t even know yet.

For Cody, I might be okay with that.

35://Josh

TYSON AND KELLAN are already at the lunch tree. I try not to read into this, but they hardly ever arrive before me. It’s been even longer since they got here first together.

“Hey, guys,” I say.

Kellan drops a ketchup-soaked french fry into her mouth.

“How’s it going?” I ask, removing my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my bag.

Tyson smiles at me. “Groovy.”

The only time Tyson says “groovy” is when he’s feeling abnormally awesome, like when he nails a kickflip on his skateboard. But I still refuse to read into this. If Tyson and Kellan are getting back together, they’ll tell me when they want me to know. But when Emma shows up, they’d better be more subtle or she’ll flip.

“Well, that’s groovy,” I say, laughing as I bite into my sandwich.

According to Emma, Kellan fell way too hard for Tyson, which is why the breakup nearly wrecked her. I think that’s just Kellan’s personality, but Emma warned her to be more careful about love from then on.

Kellan drags another fry through the ketchup. “Anyone want to hear some gossip?”

“Sure,” Tyson says. “But you need to eat more than just fries.” He removes the top piece of bread from his sandwich, peels off a slice of ham, and offers it to Kellan. “Here, have some of my meat.”

Still not reading into this.

“I haven’t seen Emma to confirm this,” Kellan says, folding the ham in half before putting it in her mouth, “but apparently, in band this morning, she dumped Graham.”

What? Why didn’t I hear about this?

Tyson takes a huge bite of his sandwich. “Good for her,” he says while chewing. “That guy’s smarmy. Did you see how he shaved his head?”

“‘Smarmy’?” Kellan swats his arm. “Where are you coming up with these words?”

This morning, when Emma and I were talking about relationships, she never said she was going to dump Graham today. If she did this because of something she saw on Facebook, there’s no telling what ripples she just caused. We’re supposed to talk to each other about this stuff!

“I don’t know if this is true,” Tyson says, “but some people think Graham and those other guys shaving their heads together was some sort of gay pact. Did you hear about that, Josh?”

A lump of bread catches in my throat. Why does he think I’d know about a gay pact? My eyes begin to water, and Kellan shoves her Sprite at me. Have people known my brother was gay but never told me about it? While I start coughing and gagging, Tyson laughs so hard he puts his hand against the ground for support.

“Are you okay?” Kellan asks, leaning close to me. “Nod your head if you need me to give you the Heimlich.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I’m fine.”

Kellan glares at Tyson. “That is the stupidest thing you’ve said all day. What on earth does shaving your head have to do with being gay? Are you gay because you and Greg tried to light your farts on fire?”

“You remember that?” Tyson cracks up. “Oh, man! Do you still have that tape, Josh?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere.” It’s hard to believe David might be gay. I mean, he must be gay because I don’t know any straight men in relationships with guys named Phillip. But now I have to rethink so many things I thought I knew about my brother. We never did meet that girl he spent so much time with after school. Was Jessica really a dude? He had Mom and Dad so worried about how much time they spent together. They even told him they weren’t ready to become grandparents yet.

“Graham isn’t gay,” I say. It’s still hard to say his name without seeing his hand up Emma’s shirt.

Kellan throws a fry at Tyson’s face. Amazingly, he catches it in his mouth.

“Anyway,” she says, “I don’t see why it matters to you who’s gay or not.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tyson says, biting off more sandwich. “My dad thinks Ellen DeGeneres is gay, and we love Ellen!”

“Are you kidding? She’s not gay,” Kellan says.

“Who’s not gay?” Emma asks, walking up to our group.

Kellan clasps her hands and smiles at Emma. “So is it true? You’re no longer with what’s-his-name?”

Emma looks right at me. “Did you—?”

“Did I what?” I ask. And then I laugh. She thinks I told them about getting rid of Jordan Jones Jr. “She’s talking about Graham. We heard you broke up with him.”

Emma pulls out her lunch, a clear Tupperware with steamed broccoli, carrots, and cubes of orange cheese. “It was time,” she says.

Kellan offers Emma a fry. “If you want advice on finding a new romance,” she says, “you should ask Mr. Templeton over there.”

Emma and I look at each other, puzzled.

“Don’t act so innocent,” Kellan says. “I’ve seen you chatting up girls all over school today.”

Tyson slaps me a high five. “My man!”

Emma opens a bag of pretzels and laughs. “Oh, I’m not so sure Josh has romance all figured out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. Is she talking about Sydney, and how I don’t know what to do next? She’d better not be joking about rejecting me herself.

“You know what it means,” Emma says.

“You guys are always teasing me, saying I’m clueless about romantic stuff,” I say to Emma and Kellan, “but maybe I know more than you think.”

“That’s what you’re hoping,” Emma says. “But I don’t think you have any idea what you’re doing.”

“Really?” I say. “Well, if you ever need advice on how to make a real relationship work, I’m right next door.”

Tyson and Kellan glance at each other but don’t say a word.

PEER ISSUES IS ALMOST OVER and I still haven’t said a word to Sydney. Tapping my pen against the desktop, I casually look over my shoulder. She smiles when she sees me, and I smile back.

“Josh Templeton?”

I turn around and Mrs. Tuttle is looking at me. Standing beside her is Thomas Wu, a student aide from the front office. Mrs. Tuttle points me out, and then Thomas walks up my aisle.

He places a blue slip of paper on my desk. “You need to go to the front office right after class.”

I look at the clock above the whiteboard. There are three minutes until the end of class. Three minutes until my first chance to speak with Sydney all day. And now I’m going to miss it!

I stuff my binder into my backpack and then zip it shut. When the bell rings, I pull my backpack over my shoulders. Behind me, I hear a sheet of paper being torn. Glancing back at Sydney, I wish I could mouth Call me again, but I can’t do that without looking pathetic.

But then Sydney reaches forward and passes me a folded piece of paper. Our fingertips touch and I get a shock of energy through my entire body. She smiles and breezes past me, leaving me gaping at the paper in my hand.

On my way down the hall, I spot Thomas Wu at his locker.

“Do you know why they called me to the office?” I ask him.

“Your parents want you to come by their work after school,” he says, turning his locker combination. “But I’m not supposed to listen in on the phone calls, so I didn’t tell you that.”

This must have to do with being late to school. Well, I really don’t care. Because I’m holding a note—written specifically to me—by Sydney Mills.

In the front office, I sign in and take a seat in an orange plastic chair. I unfold Sydney’s note and see the words “my cell phone” and then a line of beautiful numbers scribbled across the fold.

“You’re Josh, right?” a girl asks, sliding into the chair beside me. She’s a foreign exchange student from Brazil. She’s pretty, with long black hair and tiny freckles across her nose.

“I am,” I say.

“I’ve seen some of your drawings on my friends’ binders,” she says. “You’re very talented.”

I smile at her. “I’m going to be a graphic designer someday.”

“You’ll be very good at that,” she says.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to get called to the office.

36://Emma

AFTER THE FINAL BELL RINGS, I’m walking down the stairs on my way to my locker when Kellan barrels past me. She stops on the landing below, shakes her hips, and belts out, “Cel-e-brate good times, COME ON!”

“What are you celebrating?” I ask.

Kellan keeps on singing, whipping her hair around her shoulders. “We’re gonna celebrate and have a good time!”

I’ve been friends with Kellan long enough to know I’ll be standing here until the entire song is out of her system. While she swivels and sings, I take this chance to look for a baby bump. She’s wearing a black cotton skirt and a white T-shirt, and her belly looks as flat as ever. Then again, even if she’s already pregnant, she probably wouldn’t be showing yet.

When she’s finally done singing, I ask again, “What are you celebrating?”

“You!” She follows me down the stairs. “Breaking up with Graham. I didn’t have a chance to properly applaud you at lunch. So are you ready to celebrate and have a good time?”

I wish I could muster her level of enthusiasm. Yes, I’m relieved it’s over with Graham. And I’m excited about Cody. But Josh’s attitude at lunch bothered me. It’s like the discovery of his future is changing him now.

“Can you skip track today?” Kellan asks.

“I probably shouldn’t,” I say. “I skipped yesterday, so—”

Kellan knocks her hip into me. “You just want to see Cody’s gorgeous body doing sit-ups and getting sweaty and—”

I clap my hand over her mouth. Then I lean in close and say, “Cody talked to me in the hall today. He came up to me.”

Kellan pulls my hand off her mouth. Even though she thinks he’s self-absorbed, she understands my crush on Cody. Who wouldn’t understand? He’s beautiful!

“What did he say?” she whispers. “What did you say back?”

Here I am, about to spill every detail, but Kellan hasn’t done the same with me. She’s either having sex or is about to have sex or is possibly already pregnant, and she hasn’t breathed a word about anything.

“He just said hi.”

Kellan smirks. “Did you try out my Husband Theory again, or do you still have cats in your passenger seat?”

“Is this the theory with the car coming toward us?”

“Head-on collision.”

It feels wrong to try out Kellan’s theory knowing I’m supposed to marry Kevin Storm. I couldn’t find any pictures of him on Facebook, so it seems unfair to imagine someone else in the car simply because I don’t have a mental image of Kevin.

“Is Tyson still in your passenger seat?” I ask.

Kellan bites her lip for a moment, and then says, “Are you sure you can’t go to the lake today?”

She’s avoiding my question. Are she and Tyson getting back together? I felt like I was picking up signs at lunch, but I couldn’t be sure. If they are getting back together, he could potentially be Lindsay’s dad!

“Will you please come to the lake?” Kellan says. She touches my elbow. “We’ve barely hung out all week.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“I can’t,” she says. “I have my college class.”

The cute college guy! That’s why she never wants to miss class. Could he be the baby’s father? Has she been going back to the dorms with him after class?

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll come to the lake.”

Kellan claps her hands together. “But you need to drive. I had a doctor’s appointment before school, so my mom dropped me off.”

What? “Why did you see a doctor?” This has to be about the pregnancy.

Kellan looks at me and then breaks into a laugh. “You just went completely pale! I’m not dying, Em.”

I need an answer. “Then tell me why you went.”

“It was just a check-up.” She flips her hand dismissively. “Can we stop by your place and grab swimsuits?”

As we walk past the front office, Kellan knocks hips with me again, and this time I knock back. But then I glance through the office window and stop cold. Josh is sitting in a chair with his back to us. There’s a girl leaning close to his shoulder, watching him sketch something on her notebook.

“He’s drawing Pepé Le Pew,” Kellan whispers. “I think our little Josh is finally learning how to hit on girls.”

I grab Kellan’s arm and pull her away. “If that girl wants a chauvinistic, sex-addicted skunk on her folder, that’s her problem.”

WE WALK UP THE STAIRS to my bedroom, and Kellan asks if she can borrow my red bathing suit. “You should definitely wear your tan bikini,” she says. “Guys love it.”

“How do you know?”

Kellan opens my bedroom door. “Not that we care what Josh thinks, but when you wore it at the lake, he was checking you out.”

My mind flashes to that photo on Facebook. The good ole days. Josh said he took the picture by accident. Well, if he was checking me out, he’s definitely over me now. Now he’s got his pick of girls at school, and it’s only a matter of time before he permanently picks Sydney Mills.

I locate Green Day’s Dookie in my stack of CDs, slide it into my stereo, and click fast-forward until I get to “When I Come Around.” I’ve always liked this song, and Cody definitely put me in the mood for it.

“Is that your new computer?” Kellan asks, unclasping her bra beneath her shirt. “Look at that monitor!”

I wonder what would happen if I showed her Facebook. She said she wouldn’t want to time travel, but how would she feel about reading her future… reading about Lindsay? Would her future self want her to know? And what would my future self want me to know? And Josh’s?

Do they remember that, during this week in May, we’ve discovered a way to read Facebook? Maybe when they’re writing this stuff, they’re encoding what they say with subtle messages, guiding us into making different decisions. Maybe Kellan’s future self knows she’ll be in my bedroom today, inching closer to my computer. If that’s true, then adult Kellan can tweak what she says to reflect whether or not she wants seventeen-year-old Kellan to know about the baby.

“Can I check my email?” Kellan asks, pressing the power button on my monitor.

Or maybe Josh and I are the only ones who are supposed to know about this.

Or maybe time doesn’t even allow us to remember because it’d rip a massive hole in the universe.

“No!” I push Kellan’s hand away from the computer.

She steps back, confused. “I’m not going to break it. Remember, I’m the one who showed you how to use the Internet.”

“It’s just that Martin’s getting home soon,” I say. “He and my mom have been touchy about how much time I’ve been spending online.”

There’s no way I can bring Kellan into this, too. I throw our bathing suits and flip-flops into a beach bag and send her down the hall in search of towels.

37://Josh

DAD PICKS UP his office phone and dials Mom’s extension. She’s only two doors down, so I can hear it ring.

“He’s here,” Dad says into the receiver.

Dad’s office looks the same as the last time I was here. Mind-numbingly dull. Some of their best friends teach history, and their offices have powerful posters with cool quotes like “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” and “History is written by the victors.” The only poster on Dad’s wall is a black and white photo of a bald sociologist inspecting his glasses.

Mom eases the door shut, and then sits in the chair beside me.

“Why were you late for school this morning?” Dad asks.

I knew this would happen. When Emma and I finally arrived at school, we were already ten minutes late. I was hoping if the school left a message on our answering machine, I could erase it before my parents got home. But apparently their work numbers are at the top of the contact list.

“Dad and I give you a lot of freedom,” Mom says. “We don’t make you take the bus, but we expect you to get yourself there on time.”

“We know you didn’t oversleep,” Dad says. “Your music was playing when we left for work.”

“I caught a ride with Emma,” I say. “We lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”

Dad taps his finger against his desk. “Did you forget to look at the clock?”

“Why did you lose track of time?” Mom asks. “Was Emma in your bedroom?”

This is what David was talking about. Before leaving for college, he warned me that Mom and Dad get way too overprotective about the opposite sex. But apparently, it wasn’t the opposite sex they had to worry about with him.

“She wasn’t in my bedroom,” I say, which isn’t a total lie. I don’t think Emma actually made it through the doorway once she began laughing at my tighty-whities.

“Were you in her bedroom?” Mom asks.

I shouldn’t have to answer that question. I’ve never given them any reason not to trust me, yet they’re acting like I need to report back on everything I do. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a little kid anymore. I can even cross the street all by myself.”

“That’s right,” Dad says. “And when you were a kid, we let you and Emma have sleepovers. The difference is, we know you’re not a kid anymore.”

“You’re a teenage boy,” Mom says.

“Really?” I ask. “Wow.”

Dad leans forward. “Why were the two of you late for school?”

I lean back in my chair and chuckle. “You want to know if we were having sex, right?”

Dad’s voice is tight. “That’s not what I said.”

Mom lifts a hand to her chest. “Were you?”

I stand up and pull my backpack over my shoulder. “No, we weren’t having sex. And I’m only telling you that so you don’t have a heart attack. But you’re assuming an awful lot just because I was a few minutes late to school.”

“David was never late to school,” Dad says.

“And yet,” I say, my voice rising, “he chose to go to college over two thousand miles from Lake Forest!”

Mom and Dad turn to each other. There’s nothing left to say, so I grab my skateboard and leave.

THE MAN IN A WHITE PAPER HAT passes me a sugar cone with two scoops of rocky road. Holding the ice cream in one hand, I drop a quarter in the tip jar and put the rest of the change in my pocket. I carry my board outside and sit on a wooden bench, working my way around the edges of the cone.

I’m dreading seeing Mom and Dad later. Even though they brought David’s name into the discussion, I didn’t need to imply that he moved to Seattle to get away from them. I don’t even know if that’s true.

Across the four-lane road, there’s a small shopping center with a comic book store, a hair salon, and a record shop. I watch a white convertible pull into the parking lot.

That’s Sydney’s car! She looks at herself in the rearview mirror and tugs her hair into a ponytail as the top electronically closes around her.

In one of my pockets is Sydney’s phone number written across a torn piece of paper. Her cell phone is probably in her car right now. In my other pocket are enough coins to make a call. And beside this bench is a pay phone.

No, this is ridiculous.

I wipe my lips with the back of my hand. If I call Sydney and tell her I can see her, she’ll think I’m a stalker. Besides, if Emma’s right and Sydney is playing hard to get, then she won’t answer her phone. She’ll wait to hear whatever message I leave, but I have no idea what I’d say.

I watch Sydney walk past the hair salon and open the door of the comic book store. She’s into comics? Nice!

She gave me her cell number because she wants me to call, but what if this is too much too soon? Calling her right now could ruin everything. If we’re meant to be together, it needs to happen naturally. I step onto my board and skate away, licking my ice cream to distract myself.

Or maybe I’m just being chicken.

At the first corner, I bend my knees and take a right.

If I was heading home, I would’ve gone straight.

38://Emma

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND why you’re forcing me to eat ice cream,” Kellan says, staring at the menu above the concession stand at the lake. “I’m craving a slushie.”

“Because I’m the one with the money.” I lift my sunglasses so I can read the flavors. “Besides, ice cream is healthier.”

“Healthier how?”

“It’s high in calcium,” I say. When my stepmom was pregnant, she talked about needing a lot of calcium.

“What’ll it be, girls?” asks the woman behind the counter.

“I’ll have strawberry,” I say, grabbing a handful of napkins, “with rainbow sprinkles.”

Kellan turns to me. “Pretty please, slushie?”

I shake my head.

“Fine,” she says. “Then cookie dough.”

While the woman leans into the ice cream tubs, Kellan says, “I don’t get why everyone’s so concerned about my eating habits. First Tyson, now you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when are you and Tyson on good enough terms to discuss how you eat?”

Kellan waves off my question. “We’ve always been on good terms.”

“Do I have to remind you how much he irritates you? Or about those two weeks you missed school?”

Kellan reaches for her cookie dough cone. “Did you know love and hate share the same nervous circuits in the brain?”

“So now you love him again?”

“I didn’t say that. I was just stating a fact.”

We walk across the sand, licking our ice creams.

“I feel like you’re keeping things from me,” I say.

“Like what?” Kellan asks.

I step around some little boys building a sand castle. I watch them fill the moat with a small bucket of lake water and I wonder if Kevin Storm and I will still have two sons tonight.

“You wouldn’t tell me why you went to the doctor today.”

“I know,” Kellan says. “It’s just that I feel weird talking about it.”

“The only reason I’m asking is because I care about you.”

Kellan licks a drip off her cone. “Okay, I went back to that therapist I saw after Tyson and I broke up. I hadn’t seen her in a few months, so it was just a check-in.”

“Well, I’m really glad you went,” I say. “Thanks for telling me that.”

We sit on our towels and finish our ice creams in silence. With the puzzle of her doctor visit solved, there’s something else we need to discuss. My mind races to fabricate a believable story.

“I was in the school nurse’s office today,” I say, “and you’ll never believe what I saw.”

“Why did you go to the nurse?” Kellan asks.

“I cut myself on a music stand in band. It’s fine. Anyway, this girl came in asking for a condom. Did you know the school nurse gives out free condoms?”

“You and I had health together,” Kellan says. “I was there for the free condom talk.”

“Oh, right.”

“So who was it?” she asks.

“Who was what?”

“The girl asking for the condom.”

“Some senior. I don’t know her name.”

“Not that I need a condom,” Kellan says, “but I definitely wouldn’t get one from school. Who wants the nurse knowing all your business?”

I see my chance and I move in quickly. “How would you get a condom if you needed one?”

She considers my question, but doesn’t give an answer. I can tell by the way she’s shifting on her towel that I’m on the verge of losing her.

“Want to hear a secret?” I ask. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

Kellan crosses her heart.

“Last summer, when Josh’s brother came home to visit, Josh told me he stole a condom from David’s toiletries bag. He stashed it in his wallet, in case he ever needs it.”

Kellan cracks up. “Why do guys carry ratty old condoms in their wallets? When they finally get around to using them, they’re either expired or worn out.”

I instantly feel guilty for selling Josh out, even though he’s been infuriating me today. It was for a good cause, putting the idea in Kellan’s mind of always carrying a condom, but it’s not the kind of thing Josh would want getting spread around.

KELLAN’S IN THE WATER, and I’m sitting on my towel, my sunglasses hiding my eyes. A half mile across Crown Lake is a huge house with a wraparound porch, a beautifully manicured lawn, and a dock with two kayaks.

I recognize that house from the night I saw Josh’s Facebook page. Someday, he’ll live there with Sydney. They’ll go boating and have barbeques. His children will grow up rich and privileged and Josh will eventually get sucked into that world, too.

“Hey there,” Kellan says. She shakes the sand off her towel and then wraps it around her waist.

I pull my legs to my chest and point across the lake. “Do you know who lives in that house?”

“The one with the big porch?” she asks, shielding her eyes with her hand. “I don’t think anyone from school.”

“Do you think Sydney’s family could afford a house like that?”

“Sydney Mills?” Kellan sits next to me and unscrews the cap of her Sprite. “Why is everyone talking about her recently?”

I shake my head. “I think Josh might be interested in her.”

“I thought you were joking about that the other day,” Kellan says. “No offense to Josh, but she’s a little out of his league. Has he ever even talked to her?”

“Actually, my very first instant message was from Sydney,” I say, resting my chin against my knees. “She was asking for his phone number.”

Kellan spits a mouthful of Sprite onto her legs. “Did she call him yet?”

“I know I’m the one who brought it up,” I say, “but do you mind if we not talk about this?”

“Okay,” Kellan says, “but I need to talk to you about something.”

My heart races. Is she finally going to admit she’s been having sex? If she does, that’ll force me to make a huge decision. Either I admit to Kellan what I saw on Facebook, or I shake her by the shoulders and tell her she’d better be using protection.

“I’ve been thinking about you and Josh,” she says.

I burrow my feet in the sand. This isn’t the conversation I thought we were about to have.

“I know it got weird between you guys last fall,” she says. “But this week, things have seemed… different.”

“Like how?”

“You finally seemed to be getting close again, but then today at lunch you both had your claws out.”

I wiggle my toes so they peek up from the sand.

“Let me put it this way,” Kellan says. “Now that Graham’s over with, do you ever… you know…?”

“What?”

“I’m serious.”

“No!” I shriek. “Josh is… Josh.”

“Because other girls are starting to notice that he’s a really good guy. There’s the girl we saw in the office. And now you’re telling me Sydney Mills asked for his number.” Kellan removes the cap from her Sprite again. “If there’s even a small part of you that ever wondered what Josh would be like as more than a friend, maybe you should think about doing something before it’s too late.”

As Kellan takes a sip, I stare at Josh’s future house on the other side of the lake.

After a minute, I make myself look away.

39://Josh

I SKATE PAST A YELLOW HOUSE with a tire swing out front. A Chihuahua scampers through the yard and starts yipping after me. If I slow down to take the next turn, he’ll catch me. While I’m not afraid of him nipping my ankles, his bony head is the size of one of my wheels and I don’t need that type of guilt.

By now, my ice cream is gone. I fling the remainder of my sugar cone toward the dog and it shatters on the sidewalk. As he stops to nibble a shard, I round the corner and coast toward the intersection. Across the street, Sydney’s convertible is still parked and empty.

I roll up to a lamppost and hug my arm around it to keep from drifting. The traffic light changes and I could cross to the other side. When Sydney comes out of the comic book store, I could be waiting at her car.

Instead, I skate over to a vending machine and buy a can of root beer.

BY MY SECOND ROOT BEER, I’ve skated around the block four times and I have a major sugar rush going on. When I round the final corner again, I decide that if Sydney is walking to her car, I’ll go over and say hi. If she’s already left, then I’ll bolt for the nearest restroom.

When the parking lot comes into view, I see her convertible pulling onto the street.

Decision time!

I skate hard toward the pay phone, and then kick the tail of my board to flip it upside down. I lift the receiver and, with shaking fingers, dial Sydney’s cell phone number.

It’s ringing!

Her car is stopped at a red light. I can see her lift her backpack onto her lap.

Answer it!

She brings her cell phone to her ear. “Hello?”

The light turns green and her car begins driving through the intersection.

“Sydney!” I’ve had way too much sugar. “It’s Josh. I think I… are you…?”

“Josh Templeton?” she asks.

“Are you driving?” I ask. “Because I was sitting here eating ice cream and I think I just saw you.”

I watch her glance toward the sidewalk. “Where are you? I didn’t know you had a cell phone.”

“Pull over,” I say. “I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” she says, and her turn signal begins flashing.

I hang up the phone, jump on my board, and skate across the street toward her car.

The passenger window is down, and I rest my elbows on the door. She smiles at me and undoes her ponytail, her hair falling like ribbons over her silky blue shirt.

“Do you live near here?” she asks.

I nod in the direction of the ice cream shop. “No, but I had an intense craving for rocky road.”

“I love ice cream,” she says. “So where are you headed? Can I give you a ride?”

“I’m just going home,” I say. “I live over by the playground in Wagner Park.”

Sydney glances at her watch. “I need to be back on this side of town in twenty minutes, but that should give us enough time.”

I’ve never climbed into a beautiful girl’s convertible before. For a moment, I think about vaulting over the door, but then sanity kicks in. I fit my skateboard into the small backseat while Sydney puts on her blinker and gradually changes lanes.

“You can toss your bag in the back,” she says, adjusting her rearview mirror. “I know there’s not a lot of room up front.”

Before stopping by Dad’s office, I bought a three-pack of my own boxers. It’s not like Sydney’s going to unzip my backpack and see the boxers, but until she mentioned it I hadn’t realized I was hugging my bag so tight.

“Where do you have to be in twenty minutes?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t throw out a boy’s name.

“Home,” she says.

Yes!

“A woman’s coming over to show my family a slideshow, trying to get us to buy into a time-share package,” she says. “My parents aren’t very interested, but my sisters and I have been begging them to check it out. Plus, if you sit through the presentation, you get a gift card to the Olive Garden.”

“I love their breadsticks,” I say.

Sydney looks at me and smiles. “Me too!”

She’s gorgeous. I mean gorgeous. From her perfect face to her soft, tan skin and glossy hair. She’s wearing a skirt, which shows off her amazingly smooth legs. How am I allowed to sit in this car?

At my feet there’s a red plastic bag from Comix Relief. I nudge it over with my sneaker to keep from stepping on it.

“I picked those up for my dad,” she says. “It’s his birthday this weekend, so I bought a few of his favorite Archie comics.”

“I used to be an Archie freak,” I say.

She laughs. “Figures.”

“Why? Because we both have red hair?”

“I didn’t even think of that,” she says. “But I’m convinced all guys secretly worship Archie. He’s this average boy with two beautiful girls fighting over him. Don’t tell me that’s not every guy’s fantasy.”

One beautiful girl would be enough for me.

“Both of my sisters’ fiancés collect comics,” she continues. “Sometimes my dad tags along when they attend conventions, but they’re more into the mutant and superhero comics. Personally, I think the good guys like Archie.”

She is such a daddy’s girl. It’s kind of cute. I wonder if they’ll still be going to comic conventions when I join the family. Even though it would be cheesy, I’d go along.

We stop at a light and Sydney turns toward me. “Thank you for what you said in class the other day, about being considerate.”

“Human decency,” I say, groaning.

She nods and eases onto the gas. “I know you were just speaking your mind, but in a way it felt like you were defending me. So thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

Sydney smiles as she pushes her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, I’m excited about these time-shares. You get to spend a few weeks a year at some of the coolest locations in the world. Have you ever been to Acapulco? We went in February and it was beautiful.”

Acapulco? That’s one of the places Sydney and I go in the future. Does this slideshow she’s about to see lead to time-shares where we take our vacations?

“Have you ever been to Waikiki?” I ask. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Sydney looks over at me, her eyes wide. “They have time-shares in Waikiki! Okay, now I really want my parents to buy in. They even have jumbo condos where it could be a family reunion every time we go.”

Waikiki. Acapulco. When I read about Sydney and my vacations, I imagined we’d be alone, drinking fruity drinks and having sex in exotic locations. Now it seems like our trips involve a house overflowing with her family. Not that I wouldn’t go. As long as I get time alone with Sydney, I’m there.

Up ahead, the road gradually rises where it meets the train tracks.

“Do you know what to do when you drive over train tracks?” Sydney asks.

“Of course,” I say.

As the car bumps over the tracks, we both lift our feet off the floor.

“Feet-up-a-loo!” I shout.

Sydney laughs as the road descends. “Feet-up-a-what?”

“Feet-up-a-loo,” I say, my face getting warm. “Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t think so,” Sydney says, smiling. “Everyone knows you lift your feet and make a wish.”

I’m tempted to ask her what she wished for, but maybe I don’t want to know. Or maybe I do, but if she tells me it won’t come true.

40://Emma

AFTER DROPPING KELLAN OFF, I drive along the east side of Wagner Park, heading home.

If Kellan says she has no use for condoms, then she’s not even anticipating going all the way soon. When I get home, I need to tell Josh everything so we can figure out what to do. I just hope he’s gotten over today’s ego kick.

After the stoplight, I turn up the block toward my house. A white convertible is parked at the curb by Josh’s house. It’s Sydney’s car! And Josh is in the passenger seat.

As I go past them and pull into my driveway, I can almost hear Sydney’s voice saying, “Is that Emma Nelson?” I bet Josh won’t tell her we’ve been friends since we were little. And that omission will be the first stone in the wall he builds around his precious life with Sydney.

I reach into my backseat for the swimsuits and towels, and then step outside, slamming the car door much harder than I intended.

ONCE I GET TO MY ROOM, I look out the window. Sydney’s convertible is still there. Josh tells her something and she laughs like he’s the funniest guy in the world.

I peel off my sandy clothes, toss them into the laundry basket, and then pull on my robe. When Josh comes up here, I want to immediately check Facebook and see how everything that happened today affected our futures. I bet as soon as Sydney drives away, he’ll be knocking at my door.

To get ready, I dial up to AOL. While my computer beeps and crackles, I go back to the window.

Sydney leans over and kisses Josh on the cheek, and then he climbs out of the car. As she drives off, Josh gives her a two-fingered salute. Now that’s annoying. I pull away from the window and walk back to my computer. If he’s going to move forward with Sydney, then I don’t have to keep up my end of the pact.

I enter my email and password to log in to Facebook.

Life looks about the same as yesterday. I’m tempted to take a peek at Kellan or search for Josh before he gets here, but I’ll wait. That’s what friends do. They keep their word.

I spin around in my chair. Where is he?

Finally, I can’t help myself. I locate Kellan in my Friends column, and click her name.

Lindsay’s still there! Okay, now I have to talk to Josh.

I look out the window. Josh is sitting on his lawn, facing the park. I click back to my webpage on Facebook, knot the belt in my robe, and hurry down the stairs.

41://Josh

THERE’S A BREEZE blowing through the trees over in the park, and the air is getting cooler. I fit a blade of grass between my thumbs and blow. Sitting still and whistling through grass has always soothed me, but it drives Emma crazy. Sometimes I do it just to irritate her.

Recently, it’s been way too easy to irritate Emma.

When she pulled up to her house a few minutes ago, she ignored Sydney and me. Not that I expected her to run over, but a wave in our direction would’ve felt less intentionally rude. To give her the benefit of the doubt, I’ll assume she didn’t want to interrupt my time with Sydney.

“JOSH!”

Emma is stomping across her front lawn, her arms folded against her chest. She seems pissed, which looks silly since she’s barefoot and wearing a fluffy white bathrobe.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey?” Emma stares down at me. “I assumed you would come up to my room the moment you got home. See, we have this thing called Face—”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know you were up there waiting.” I hold the blade of grass to my lips and blow.

“Stop that!”

I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling. “Did you see who dropped me off?”

Emma stuffs her hands into the floppy pockets of her robe. “A lot has happened today… for both of us. I think we need to make sure everything’s still okay.”

That’s definitely true. Emma dumped Graham and then hung out with Cody in the hallway. Anna Bloom wrote her number on my folder. Sydney Mills gave me a ride home. While I’m curious to find out how everything affected Emma’s future, I’m actually nervous about my own.

I grab my backpack and kick my skateboard into my hand. “I’m willing to check out your future,” I say, following Emma, “but I want to skip mine.”

“Skip yours?” Emma glances back at me. “You don’t want to know what that little road trip did to your future?”

The wind chimes hanging on her porch are clinking loudly.

“Sydney driving me home didn’t change anything,” I say, leaning my skateboard against the railing.

Emma tips her head and looks me in the eyes. Without a word, her message is clear: We’ll see about that.

WHEN WE GET TO HER ROOM, Emma grabs a change of clothes and disappears down the hall. She returns a minute later wearing small white shorts and a red V-neck shirt. Loose curls spill around her face and neck, but her shoulders are stiff with tension.

I set my backpack on the floor at the foot of her bed.

“Why were you wearing a robe before?” I ask.

Emma sits at her computer with her back to me. “I was about to take a shower because Kellan and I were at the lake. She needed to talk. So, like the good friend that I am, I went with her.”

Is she insinuating that I’m not a good friend?

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t remember you saying you needed to talk.”

“I was trying to talk to you all day!” Emma says. “But you were either flirting with random girls or arguing with me at lunch.”

The last person who should be lecturing me about flirting is Emma. But she’s right. I never asked her how she was doing today. Both of us are trying to figure out so much, yet I was only concerned with my own life.

I stand beside Emma as she clicks the word “Friends.” She scrolls past several rows of photos, and then slows down when she reaches the C names. She sighs heavily when Cindy Freeburg is followed by Corbin Holbrook, whoever those people are. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who she was hoping to find.

I tell Emma I’m going to the bathroom. I’ve got a few root beers talking to me, and I’m also not in the mood to hear her moan about a future without Cody Grainger.

Since the downstairs bathroom is getting renovated, I walk through her mom and Martin’s room. The last time I was in here must have been back in elementary school. I probably got a splinter or cut myself climbing a chain-link fence. Her parents kept the Neosporin and Band-Aids in this bathroom.

Outside the bathroom door there’s a large square frame displaying a dozen photos. I’m in a few of them, but it doesn’t look like any pictures have been added since Emma started high school. In the bottom left corner is a picture of Tyson, Kellan, Emma, and me squished into the back of a minivan on the way to a middle school dance. Tyson and I are wearing cheap clip-on ties, and Emma and Kellan have their bangs curling up like waves. And we all look so small!

I remember how Emma and Kellan danced with a large group of girls. Tyson and I mostly hung out under the basketball hoop unless a girl yanked one of us onto the dance floor. The last song of the night was “End of the Road” by Boyz II Men, and I decided to ask Emma to dance with me. With my hands barely touching her hips, and her hands on my shoulders, we spent the first half of the song staring down at our feet. I pulled her a little closer, sliding my hands onto her back, and soon Emma rested her chin beside my neck. As that final song began to fade, I closed my eyes and leaned my head until our cheeks touched.

That’s when I first felt a crush forming on my best friend.

WHEN I RETURN to Emma’s room, I’m ready to talk about our futures. Even though we haven’t been able to speak without snapping at each other today, we need to. And I have a plan to make that happen.

“Let’s play Truth,” I say. “You can ask me anything, and I get to ask you anything.”

Emma shakes her head. “There’s nothing I want to know.”

“Nothing?”

“I have a better game,” she says. “No one’s ever played it before. It’s called Refresh.”

I remove my backpack from the bed and sit down on Emma’s comforter.

“While you were gone,” Emma says, “I got to thinking about the Refresh icon on the computer. This is going to blow your mind.”

It’s nice to see Emma smiling, so I sit up and listen.

“Ever since we discovered Facebook,” she says, “we noticed there were changes between when we logged off and when we logged on again. Those changes could’ve been made by a thousand different ripples throughout the day. But think of how cool it would be to see the effects of one tiny little ripple.”

“I’m not really sure what you’re suggesting,” I say, “but I’m not causing any ripples just for fun.”

Emma points at the monitor. “Check out what my update says.”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” I say. “You’re going out to dinner.”

Emma slowly nods her head. “So you get to live in a huge house on the lake, and I have to stay cooped inside. That sounds fair.”

Since when did this become a contest where we compare our lives?

Emma glances at her closet, then her dresser. “Now, we have to do something. It doesn’t have to be huge, but something we weren’t going to do before playing this game.”

“Emma, I’m not messing with the future. Not as part of a game.”

“Then don’t call it a game!” she snaps. “Think of it as an award-winning science experiment.”

Emma picks up the thin blue vase from her dresser. Earlier this week, it held the dying roses Graham gave her for prom. Emma slowly tips the vase until water begins dribbling onto her white carpet.

“What are you doing?” I ask. But I know the answer. She’s making a small change in the present to see how it affects the future. If I grab the vase from her now, it wouldn’t matter because that wouldn’t have happened before either.

At first Emma lets the water spill onto one spot, but then she begins spiraling it into bigger circles until the vase is empty.

“The water had a little dirt in it,” she explains, sitting at her computer again. “When Martin sees this, he’ll probably have a long talk with my mom. My mom will lecture me, and then she’ll make me clean it when I should’ve been doing my homework. How do you think that will change everything that comes after?”

I don’t want to guess how the future just changed. It’s impossible to know, and it shouldn’t have been changed to begin with.

Emma looks over at me pleadingly. “Come on! It’ll be fun.” She scrolls over the Refresh icon. “Fast forward fifteen years and…”

She clicks the mouse and the page reloads.

I sit down on Emma’s bed and lean over so my thumbs press into my temples. This is so reckless. Emma doesn’t care what happens to her future because she doesn’t want the future she has. All she cares about is Cody. But since there’s no mention of him on Facebook, she has nothing to lose.

Emma groans. “I sound about as happy as before. I need to do something bigger.”

“How do you know you’re not happy in this future?” I ask. “I thought you liked Kevin Storm.”

“We’re going to Kevin’s favorite restaurant,” Emma says. “And my babysitter has a habit of not showing up.”

“You’re reading a lot into very few words,” I say.

Emma glares at me. “If I totally screw things up, then I’ll change it back.”

“You can’t change it back!”

“You’re not playing, remember? And if I screw things up that badly, then I’ll keep screwing them up until they get better. I can hit Refresh all night if I need to.”

“I’m out!” I say, heading toward the door. “I’m done with Facebook. I’m not messing with the future anymore.”

“That’s because you’re afraid,” Emma says. “You have no idea why Sydney likes you, so you’re terrified that something I do will break that rock solid relationship of yours.”

“Sydney has plenty of reasons to like me,” I say.

“Name three.”

“This is stupid.”

“You can’t, can you?” she says. “You’re afraid of reality.”

“If anyone in this room is afraid of reality,” I say, “it’s not me.”

“That’s it.” Emma moves the arrow from the Refresh icon and clicks on Friends.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking you up. Maybe things will never be perfect in my future, but I’m tired of you acting like you’re better than me because your life turns out fantastic.”

“I never even thought that.” I run to the computer and pry her fingers away from the mouse, then I click back to Emma’s page.

Emma jabs her finger at the screen. “Do you see where I live now?”

“Remember how I was a marine biologist?” she says. “I should be living near the ocean. I worked at the lab in Massachusetts, but we moved to Ohio. I’m sure that’s because of Kevin. So I’m stating out loud that if Kevin even suggests moving there in the future, he’s out of his mind. Right this second, I’m committing to never living in Ohio.”

Emma’s finger taps the Refresh button. The page reloads.

“It worked!” Emma says.

She touches the mouse, but I pry her hand away again. I’m not letting go until she promises to stop this game.

“This is scary,” I say. “You’re not even doing things anymore. You’re just making up your mind and changing your life.”

Emma looks up at me but doesn’t say anything. The longer she stares, the more uncomfortable I feel. She smiles faintly, and then lifts onto her toes. Her lips press into mine, and neither of us pull away.

I close my eyes and lean into her.

Emma brushes her cheek against mine and whispers, “How do you think this will affect our future?”

I part my lips as she slides her hand behind my neck, pulling us even closer.

42://Emma

JOSH STEPS BACK FROM ME, and I immediately know I’ve gone too far.

“Why did you do that?” he asks. His voice is shaky.

My legs feel weak. I sit in my chair and try to make my brain focus. I did it because… I don’t know.

I stare down at my hands. I don’t know what to say. When he left for the bathroom a few minutes ago, I quickly opened his backpack. I’m not sure what I was looking for, maybe a note from Sydney, or a clue as to where they just were. Instead I found a pack of boxers, which clearly shows he’s hoping for something to happen with her very soon. After everything that’s gone on this week, it pushed me over the edge.

“It was nothing,” I say. “Let’s just let it go, okay?”

“Let it go?” Josh’s eyes flash with anger. “You know how I felt about you! You can’t jerk me around for some stupid game.”

“I wasn’t jerking you around.”

“You rejected me,” Josh says. “But now that I’m moving on, it pisses you off. Did you expect me to mope around forever?”

“Of course not,” I say, fighting back tears.

“Maybe other guys don’t mind when you act like this, but I do.”

“Act like what?”

“Going out with people and not caring about them,” Josh says. “Even with your future you got rid of Jordan Jones like he didn’t matter. And today you dumped Graham and immediately moved on to Cody. I saw you in the hall with him. But in case that doesn’t work out, now you’re starting something with me. Who’s next?”

“That is not how—”

“Yes it is!”

The way Josh says it feels like a slap across the face. I squeeze my hands into fists and say, “Take that back or get out of my room.”

“Gone!” he says.

As soon Josh’s feet hit the stairs, I fall onto my bed. My shoulders shake and my chest heaves. I stare at the corkboard above my bed, at all the pictures of us. There’s Kellan, Tyson, Josh, and me in the ball pit at GoodTimez. I’ve had that up there since last year. In one of my futures, I even posted it in an album on Facebook. Well, not anymore. I rip the picture off the corkboard, tear it into pieces, and toss it in my trash can.

I LOOK OUT my window toward Josh’s bathroom, but the blinds are closed. Just this morning, he had a phone propped on that sill, waiting for Sydney to call. I didn’t humiliate him by pointing it out because that’s not how you treat friends.

You don’t judge them. You don’t humiliate them. I bet he’s been judging me all along. Like this morning, judging me for going out with Kyle and Graham even though I didn’t love them. And at lunch, saying I should come to him if I need advice on romance. He thinks I’ll always suck at relationships.

Screw him.

I sit down at my computer again.

Screw his ground rules about Facebook.

There I am, posing with my husband in London. I enlarge the photo. My hair is lighter, and I’m wearing an orange scarf. Kevin is barely taller than me with dark brown eyes. Big Ben looms in the background. Kevin is holding a baby in his arms. An older child is peeking out from between my knees.

The other times I’ve been married to Kevin, and even to Jordan, I kept Nelson as part of my name. What ripple occurred in the past twenty minutes to make me give up my maiden name?

I scroll down.

I’m not happy. Again!

When I said that I wouldn’t live in Ohio, I should have been more specific. I should have said “I will not give up my dream job.” Or “I will not live away from the ocean.”

Earlier today, I wrote that I wondered what a marine biologist does in Ohio. I was being vague, but I can tell what’s going on. Kevin moved us there so he could be some kind of hero in his job, but he took me away from what I loved. And the boys we had in Ohio were having a tough time adjusting to school because they had to start in the middle of the year. Kevin doesn’t care about us. He only cares about himself.

I can hear Josh warning me to stop this line of thought. He’d say that maybe my future self is having a bad week. But I know myself. Things are not good.

I click on Friends and scroll through the names. There’s still no Cody Grainger. Before I can stop myself, I go down to the Js.

This time, there’s also no Josh Templeton.

So that’s how it goes. One mistake and he holds it against me forever.

There’s a box at the top of the webpage where you can search for people. I lightly drum my fingers against the keyboard, and then quickly type “Josh Templeton.” A new page loads, with more Josh Templetons than will fit on the screen. But the third Josh down is him.

I click his name and his page appears. He still lives in Lake Forest and works at Electra Design. In his photo, he’s in a rowboat with Sydney and three kids, but the rest of the page is mostly blank.

Next to his name is a small rectangle that says “Add as Friend.” I try clicking it, but nothing happens. I click it again, but the future won’t let itself be changed that easily.

Fine. Have fun with your happy life, Josh.

I type “Cody Grainger” in the search area and hit Enter.

Cody’s page is similar to Josh’s. He’s not a Friend, so I can’t get much info on him either. It says he lives in Denver, Colorado, and is an architect, focusing on wind and solar energy. His hair looks as blond and spiky as ever, and he has that same sexy smile. Cody definitely ages well.

I scroll down.

How is Cody Grainger still single in fifteen years?

Okay, let’s say I divorce Kevin in London, bring the kids back to the States, and marry Cody. It’s a long shot, but nothing’s impossible. With that thought in mind, I log off Facebook, disconnect from AOL, and lay down on my bed.

A few minutes later, the phone rings. I’m not answering. Whoever it is can just leave a message.

“Emma!” Martin calls.

How long has he been home? I hope he didn’t hear my argument with Josh.

“Are you upstairs?” he asks. “Your dad’s on the phone.”

I unplug the cord from my computer and snap it into my phone. As I do this, I step on the damp stain on my carpet. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now, especially my dad. I feel guilty that I haven’t called to thank him yet. Plus, he gets all lovey on the phone, which will only make me feel worse.

“Hey, Dad,” I say.

“Is there a problem?” he asks. He sounds stern. “I left you a message over the weekend, and again on Monday, and I still haven’t heard back. It’s Wednesday, Em. Mom said the computer arrived on Saturday.”

I can’t do this now. “I know. I started an email to you, but I’ve been—”

“Too busy to thank me? I’m pretty sure I raised you to be—”

“Oh! So you’re raising me now.”

He pauses. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” My voice rises. “You have a new family and you’re trying to get rid of me by giving me gifts. Is that fair?”

“I don’t know where this attitude—”

I slam down the receiver.