“Exactly.” I give her another smile as an answer.
The light turns green and I start looking for the street we need. Harper is still mulling over what I said. I haven’t been downtown much, but Libby always swears I have a GPS in my head, which is usually helpful when I only glance a map before going somewhere I’ve never been.
“So,” she starts again, “when you go to the past, you don’t mess anything up? I feel like I’m missing something.”
I find a parking space a block away from the address and cut the engine. I don’t think I’ve ever explained this to anyone before.
It’s oddly easy.
“Like you said, the past is history,” I tell her. “So, when I go back in time, everything I do has already happened. And if I try to change something, it won’t matter because it has already happened. Does that make sense? Let’s say at some point in the past I—I don’t know, meet one of the presidents. I haven’t yet, but if I’m going to, I’m going to.”
“Because you already have.”
“Yes.”
“So the past is actually your future,” she says.
I smile a little. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
She stares out the windshield, her eyes bright against the city lights. “You’re right. It is almost too simple.”
“I think people like to overcomplicate things.”
“Or maybe they’ve never met a real time-traveler.” Harper smiles, looking over. “I don’t think I’ll be able to watch another movie on the subject again. Have you ever met anyone else who could do what you do?”
“No, but I’ve always wondered. Maybe I have and just didn’t know it. It’s not like I have a sign on my back saying what I am.” I glance down the street, my stomach full of excitement and nerves. I couldn’t even eat dinner earlier. “We should get in there. Miles will break up with me if I don’t show.”
“What?”
I shake my head and open the door. “Nothing. Come on.” The weather is still on the warm side, enough to leave my sweatshirt in the car. Puddles of water dampen the sidewalks, but we walk side by side toward the old theater, which has been turned into a venue.
A guy stands outside, taking money from everyone trying to get indoors before the rain starts back up. Harper pulls out a couple ten-dollar bills before I have the chance to stop her.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She hands the guy some money and says, “I already have. What are you going to do now? Go back in time and stop me?”
I glance at the guy, but he’s already taking money from the people behind us. “Could you say it any louder? I don’t think the people behind us heard you.”
I open the door and Harper walks past me. “And if they did hear me?” she asks. “Do you really think they would take it seriously?”
“Maybe.” Even I’m not convincing myself. Or course they wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean I go around announcing it to the world.
I follow in after her.
The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat clogs the air inside, causing my fingers to itch for one. The lighting is dim and hazy. Most of it comes from the spotlights on the stage, lighting up the tops of people’s heads. The place is packed. It’s noisy and loud, even though the band isn’t on stage yet.
I ask, “Do you see Miles anywhere?”
“No. I’m gonna go find the bathroom. If I don’t come back within five minutes—”
“Assume you’re dead and go on without you?”
“It’s too risky to come after me.” Harper shakes her head in mock sadness and walks away. I watch her disappear through the crowd and adjust my ball cap.
I feel out of place here. Something I should be used to.
I wade deeper into the moving mass. Some people brush by like I don’t exist. Others look then forget they ever saw me.
I skim faces, trying to find Miles or Grace. Hoping I won’t see anyone else from school.
The stage slowly comes closer. After going a little ways more, I see Miles with Grace at his side, talking to a guy with dark hair and glasses.
I start toward him. When he inclines his head to the side to talk to Grace, his eyes catch sight of me. He flashes a grin. “I almost didn’t think you’d show.”
“I almost didn’t either.”
He engulfs me in a hug—even though I just saw him a couple days ago—receiving a few stares in our direction because he still hasn’t let go. “I was hoping you’d come so I wouldn’t have to break up with you,” he says, his chin still on my shoulder.
I smile at Grace while she rolls her eyes. This is the Miles we know and love.
“Where’s Harper?” she asks. “You’d better have brought her, or I’m going to punch you in the face—”
“—Please don’t, I brought her.” I pat Miles on the back. “All right buddy, you can let go now.”
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding it at all. He steps away and motions to the guy behind me. “This is Blake. He’s the lead singer. Blake, this is Kale.”
I shake the guy’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. I didn’t know Miles was that—ah, fond of you.”
“Almost embarrassingly so,” I say.
Grace says, “For the both of us.”
“Hey now,” Miles warns me. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be friendless and at home.”
“Where I’d probably be better off.”
Whereas I can hold in my smile, Miles can’t.
Blake clears his throat once and says, “I’ve got to get ready, but I’ll see you guys after the show.”
Grace wishes him luck and he leaves.
“So,” Miles starts, “anything new? Since the last time I saw you, that is. Other than needing a haircut.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling a draft coming from somewhere. “Nothing, really. Libby called once and she might be staying with my mom.”
“Like, permanently?” Grace asks.
“Sounds like it.” I catch a glimpse of Harper coming toward us. My stomach tightens. Getting nervous all over again. She stops next to me and I hear myself say, “I think it’ll turn out all right, though.”
Grace and Harper delve into a conversation like they’ve been friends for more than a couple weeks. I shouldn’t be surprised. Harper was always like that, even when we were kids. She could start up conversations with strangers at the grocery store without thinking.
Within the short time my mind drifts, Miles says something to Grace that makes her blush—something that is very, very hard to do. As he likes to prove countless times.
But then he smirks and leans in to kiss her and I feel my face heat. Harper and I glance at each other before looking away.
It’s impossibly hard to pretend nothing happened between us.
We’re saved when someone talks into the mic, announcing the show is about to start. People cheer and push their way to the front of the stage. Packing in more tightly than I could’ve imagined.
Miles leans in so I can hear him over the yelling crowd. “You guys want to get closer to the front with us?”