The Future of Us (24 page)

I SHUT MY BEDROOM DOOR and dial my dad’s number.

“This is the Nelson household,” Cynthia’s voice says. “Sorry we missed your call. Please leave a message after the beep.”

There’s a low tone, followed by two short beeps.

“Hey, Dad . . . it’s Emma.” I pause and close my eyes.
You need to do this
. “Maybe you’re busy with the baby, but I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, and for not thanking you yet. I really do like the computer. I’ve just been . . .” I can’t wimp out and leave this on his machine. I need to speak with him live. “Can you please call me back?”

I hang up and try to imagine who will hear my message first. I hope it’s not Cynthia. She’s always been nice, but I want to keep some things personal between my dad and me.

“Dale,” I imagine her saying as she rocks the baby on her shoulder. “Your daughter left you a message.”

Or maybe she’ll say your
other
daughter. I hope not. I hope she just calls me Emma.

THE FIRST THING I CHECK on Facebook is the status of my relationship. I’m no longer married to Kevin Storm, and my new husband’s name is Isaac Rawlings. I work for the University of South Carolina. It doesn’t say what my job is, but there’s a link to something called Marine and Coastal Services. My picture has me nuzzling my cheek against a golden retriever, and my hair is long and curly.

Then I read my first entry.

I lower my head and rub my eyes. It’s been less than a week since Josh gave me that CD-ROM, but have I done anything good with it? Maybe Josh was right and I shouldn’t have gotten rid of Jordan Jones so quickly. Or maybe I should’ve stuck it out with Kevin. It wasn’t perfect, but every couple has hard times. Now I’m married to Isaac Rawlings, and we’re already getting divorced.

Even if I could reverse
everything
, I don’t know which life I’d want to go back to. And I’ve caused so many ripples by now, there’s no way to recover any of the exact same futures. If I go to Tampa State, where I was supposed to meet Jordan, I’ll never feel comfortable around him knowing how things once turned out.

I don’t even
want
to know where I meet Isaac Rawlings. Once I make up my mind not to marry him, I’ll just wind up in another bad marriage.

I glance at my Friends category. This time, I only have one hundred and fourteen friends. I scroll down to the
J
s, but there’s still no Josh.

I’m scrolling back up through my friends when I see the name Cody Grainger. My heart starts racing. Something
did
change between us today! In his photo, he’s wearing a sports jacket and tie and his hair is brushed neatly to one side. I click on his name and—

I read through his last several statements. Cody now lives in Arizona. He’s a professor of architecture, specializing in wind and solar energy. He speaks all over the world. Two weeks ago, he visited the White House and spoke before Congress. And best of all, he’s still single.

In Cody’s last future, he merely worked in this field. Now he’s a leading expert. And it’s because of me! What I told him about architecture today must have jump-started his career. That is too bizarre to even
think
about.

Cody doesn’t have any other photos, but on his information page he has a list of random things he likes.

I wonder if I should add Duke to my list of college choices. That would be cool.

I can’t believe Cody likes
Wayne’s World
so much. I went to see that movie with Josh and Tyson a few years ago. Tyson was howling the whole time, popping Junior Mints and shouting at the screen. Josh and I couldn’t believe how stupid it was. We kept ourselves entertained mainly by watching Tyson.

But if Cody can quote
Wayne’s World
fifteen years from now, and if I want to move things along with him, I need to get my hands on that movie as soon as possible.

“Wayne’s World?”
asks the woman in the video store. “I just reshelved that ten minutes ago.”

She points me toward the comedy section. I quickly locate the movie, return to the counter, and hand her my video card.

“‘It will be mine,’” she says, grinning as she types in my name. “‘Oh yes. It will be mine.’”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?” The woman tips her head. “You haven’t seen
Wayne’s World
before?”

“I saw it in the theater, but I didn’t—” Then I get what she’s doing. “You’re quoting from the movie! Was that Wayne or Garth?”

“Wayne, I think. My boyfriend says it all the time.”

“He does? So people think that line’s funny?”

She stares at me like I’m insane. “It’s due back in two days.”

I thank her and hurry out the door.

IN THE SMALL employee break room, Tyson’s dad brings in two paper plates, each with a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“I know you said you weren’t hungry,” he says, setting a plate next to my history textbook, “but everyone has room for one slice.”

I like Tyson’s dad. Maybe it’s because he raised Tyson by himself, but he’s more approachable than most fathers. When I showed up an hour ago claiming to need a place to study, he didn’t question me even though no one comes to GoodTimez for peace and quiet. He simply cleared the newspapers from the back table and asked if I wanted anything to eat.

“Will the TV bother you?” he asks, sitting in a folding chair across from me.

“No, that’s fine.” I flip a page in my textbook and take a bite of pizza.

Tyson’s dad leans forward and presses the power button on the TV. Two men appear on CNN, arguing about President Clinton and sex.

“Weren’t they talking about this the last time I came back here?” Tyson’s dad asks.

I smile. “I’m sure they’re almost done.”

After Sydney dropped me off, I tried studying in my living room so I could keep an eye on Emma’s driveway. I don’t want to spend another day getting ignored by her. It’s not fair for either of us. We need to talk about what happened yesterday.

But then, when Emma did get home from track, I sat frozen on my couch as she walked inside. A short while later, she got back in her car and sped off again. That’s when I grabbed my backpack and skateboard and headed to GoodTimez.

“What are you studying?” Tyson’s dad asks.

“Vietnam.” I take another bite of pizza and then rub my fingers on a napkin. “There’s going to be an essay question on the final about the domino theory.”

“I remember the domino theory,” he says. He watches a few more seconds of the men arguing on TV. “If we don’t stop something bad from happening, it’ll keep spreading until it’s nearly impossible to do anything about it.”

“I think that’s it.”

“Even with our ability to look back on that war,” he says, “there’s no way to know for certain what was lost and what was saved. But that’s how it is. History’s a bitch when you’re in the middle of it.”

Tyson walks in, setting his skateboard against the wall.

“What’s up, Mr. Mills?” he says, saluting me. “Dad, did you just say ‘history’s a bitch’?”

“We were talking about Josh’s essay,” his dad says. “Speaking of homework, where the hell have you been?”

Tyson smiles mischievously. “With a friend. Since when do you track my every move?”

Tyson’s dad balls up a napkin and chucks it at him. “Just finish your homework, T-bone, and then I need you out on the floor. You can help, too, Josh. Earn your keep.”

GOODTIMEZ PIZZA has yellow booths and orange tables on one side of the restaurant and an arcade on the other. But in the very center is the reason every kid in Lake Forest wants to have a birthday party here. Three plastic tube-slides—red, blue, and green—spit the kids into a rainbow-colored pool of plastic balls.

Every few weeks, after the restaurant closes, the pit is emptied so the balls can be sanitized. Tonight, following orders, I stay to help. Tyson squeezes through a vertical strip in the netting around the ball pit and immediately sinks to his knees. He dips a white bucket into the balls and then pushes it back through the netting. I hold open a large black trash bag and Tyson overturns the bucket, letting the balls pour in.

“So nothing happened today when you were with Sydney?” Tyson asks, scooping up another bucketful of balls. “Maybe you should bring her to lunch tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do to help push things along.”

The other workers are cleaning tabletops, vacuuming, and emptying tokens from the video games. The music is pumped too high for them to overhear us, but I’m still not comfortable having this conversation.

“It’s too early,” I say quietly. “We barely know each other.”

Tyson empties another bucket into my bag. “Dude, she pulled you out of school. I think she
wants
to know you.”

“Maybe.” I set the full trash bag off to the side. “But maybe I’m not ready.”

Tyson opens the net just enough to ricochet a green ball off my forehead. “Then get ready! We’re talking about Sydney Mills. It’s my
dream
to be the guy who’s friends with the guy who’s hooking up with her.”

I shake open a new trash bag. “Wouldn’t you rather be that guy yourself?”

Tyson thinks about it. “Nope. Too many people talk about you.”

I pick up the green ball from the floor and drop it into the trash bag. “Not to mention, it looks like you and Kellan are getting back together.”

Tyson doesn’t respond.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll let Kellan tell Emma about it, if she hasn’t already. But you should be prepared. Emma’s going to want to have a long talk with you about—”

“About not hurting Kellan, I know.” Tyson leans his back against the cushioned border of the ball pit. We’ve emptied enough so that his knees stick up like two islands in front of his chest. He looks at me through the netting. “I would
never
want Kellan to get hurt. Last time, I just wasn’t ready.”

“But you can understand why Emma’s worried,” I say. “The last time you two broke up, Kellan flipped.”

Tyson picks up a red ball and sidearm pitches it into the blue slide. It rolls to the top, and then falls back into the pit.

“We like each other,” he finally says. “And we’ve both done a lot of thinking this year. I don’t know what else we’re supposed to do.”

There’s nothing I can tell him. Tyson is struggling with whether or not to let himself fall for someone he’s already fallen for. My situation is different. I’m supposed to be falling for Sydney, and everything appears to be lining up for that to happen. But when I think about my future, I’m not sure that’s where I want it to go.