The possibilities breed more possibilities, cycling on into infinity, and now I know there’s a group of superpowered reality travelers who keep it moving smoothly. All these years I’ve been harvesting my dreams for story ideas and I never had an inkling that I was really experiencing any of it.
I certainly never, in my wildest dreams, thought I’d really be meeting Finn in the flesh or that he’d be trying to help me navigate this sea full of crazy. My mind is still whirling over all that I’ve seen, and I’ve only been to two other realities. How many are there? Thousands? Millions?
I find Ben leaning on my locker right before history class, and I wonder for a moment what he would have been like in the reality I visited yesterday. The memories from the other me surface, and I sift through them.
There was no Finn in that reality. But there was a Ben. He and I traveled in different social circles, and we didn’t speak much. But I did have a slight crush on him.
I let that sink in for a moment as I walk toward him in my reality, and to say this is a weird sensation would be a serious understatement.
It’s not that I never considered Ben as romance material. I actually did at one time, when he first moved here from New Mexico a year ago. He was the focus of lots of female attention. Some of it was because he was new, from someplace most of the school considered to be “exotic,” and this is a small, boring town. But he’s also easy to look at.
We’ve only just gotten a class with each other this semester in AP Honors History, and then he joined Spanish Club. By the time we started hanging out, I’d begun dreaming of Finn on a nightly basis. How does anyone compete with your dream guy? It was a losing battle from the start, but I couldn’t very well explain that to Ben without sounding like a complete head case.
I do like being around Ben, though. He makes me laugh, and he doesn’t mind if we just hang out or occasionally do goofy stuff like playing Band Hero or binge-watching Netflix. Most of all, he’s good with Danny, and not a lot of guys are. I think he makes people feel uncomfortable, and they don’t know how to talk to him. Ben never worries about any of that. He just treats Danny like a normal person.
My mind flashes to Finn, pretending to sword fight with my brother, and I break into a wide grin as I reach for the handle on my locker.
“Do I have food on my shirt or something?” Ben asks.
I glance over at him. “Not that I can see. Why?”
“I figured you were smiling because you were fixing to bust on me for something. What’s got you in such a good mood?”
“I was just remembering something funny,” I reply. “How was your game yesterday?”
“We lost.”
“Sorry.” I grab my binder and my history book out of my locker, and he closes it for me before falling into step next to me.
“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “We suck.”
“Go team,” I snark. “That’s the spirit!”
“I don’t see you out on a field anywhere, St. Clair.” He bumps me with his shoulder.
“Hey, how’d the diorama turn out?”
“It’s done and it’s good. Perfection.”
“Ah,” I say wisely. “The perfect partner project. I knew I could count on you.”
We make our way into history class, where I put my pen on the paper and start working on my latest piece for creative writing class.
I listen to Mr. Draper drone on with half an ear as I start to form my story. My protagonist is a superhero guy who will appear to a person, and he’s summoned there when they utter the phrase, “I’m all alone.”
Once he’s thrown there, face-to-face with the person he needs to help, he has only twenty-four hours to find them a friend. A true friend. Someone who can make a difference in that person’s life.
It’s a good premise. I can explore all the many reasons someone might feel alone, and Ms. Eversor is big on the humanity angle, too. She’ll like that I’ve got people helping others. Too many kids in my class write horrible emo poetry and postapocalyptic zombie stories. She likes the upbeat stuff.
I flesh out the story a little more, concentrating on my supporting characters, and despite my efforts, the hero is shaping up to be exactly like Finn. Of course.
I stop gnawing on my pen and glance up at Mr. Draper, who hasn’t moved from the position he took at the front of the class. I don’t think he’s changed the inflection in his voice, either.
I glance over at Ben so he can see me roll my eyes, but he is paying attention. More than that, he looks like he’s enjoying this lecture. I’ve never considered the Prussian involvement during the Revolutionary War to be that exhilarating, but Ben is eating this stuff up, raising his hand a few times and really discussing the answers with Mr. Draper.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, class is over. I’m distracted at school, and it’s starting to show in my schoolwork. I had a C on my test in calculus and end up with a low B on my history pop quiz from last Thursday. I shove the paper into my messenger bag when Mr. Draper hands it to me, thoroughly disgusted with myself.
Ben holds the door for me as I exit the class.
“That was a rough one. You all right, St. Clair?”