by Jana Miller
This had to be more than just be a vertigo jolt. Vague, frightening words like tumor and aneurysm floated through my mind, but I didn’t know anything about those things, other than they were bad. I couldn’t even move for fear of the pain splitting my head open. I kept my eyes closed, but another wave of pain hit my head and moved down to my stomach, giving me only a split second to roll over onto my side before I threw up on the floor.
I must have passed out after that.
“Oh, Chloe.” My mom’s voice didn’t cause the searing pain I would have expected, so I cracked my eyes open to see her looking at me sympathetically. It must have been past time for me to get up for school. “Is it just your stomach or another migraine?”
I gingerly laid an arm across my eyes and mumbled, “Migraine,” deciding that since the debilitating shocks of pain had settled into something more like the usual rewinding headache, it must not be a life-threatening emergency after all.
She left the blinds closed, got me my prescription migraine medication, and cleaned up my floor before calling the school to excuse me.
I slept all day.
* * *
The headache wasn’t gone by the next morning, but I was used to living with a headache. I took some more pain meds and sucked it up.
I felt like I’d rewound several days, and I had no idea why. The panic it had caused made me wish I didn’t have to keep so much hidden from everybody who knew me. I wanted to talk to somebody about it.
Over the years, I had come to accept the fact that being the only person who could rewind time meant hiding the side effects that came with it—as much as I could, anyway. My parents knew I got migraines, but they didn’t know about the dizziness, and they didn’t know the reason. Until last month, I was completely alone. I couldn’t tell anyone.
But now that was different. Now I knew there was somebody I could talk to about it—if I could convince myself to trust him. I at least had the option.
I walked to school with Janie, hoping the fresh air would help my fuzzy head.
Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again.
“Huh? Yeah, fine.”
She watched my face, unconvinced, and I realized I’d been squinting and rubbing my temples. I dropped my hands and stood up straight. “I’m good.”
Janie shook her head a little so I confessed, “Okay, not totally fine, but there’s no use staying home.”
“You’re just afraid Mom and Dad will take you to a doctor again if you let them know how bad it is.”
I was about to deny that, but she saw too much. “Well, wouldn’t you be? It won’t do any good, anyway.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they tested for pretty much everything they could test for back when the—the migraines started. So we already know I don’t have a tumor or a brain clot or a sinus infection or whatever else.” Though yesterday had briefly caused me to wonder.
She snorted. “Brain clot? Is that a thing?”
“You know, like a—a clot. A blood clot. In your brain.” She just laughed. “What? That’s a thing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure they don’t call it a brain clot.”
“Whatever,” I said, elbowing her. “You knew what I meant.”
“Yeah,” she answered. “A blood clot in your brain. Ew.” She wrinkled her nose and dropped the subject as we neared the junior high.
* * *
“Please distract me,” I begged Maya at lunch that day, laying my head down on my arms.
She could tell as well as Janie could whenever I had a headache, and she had a lot of practice distracting me.
“Um…You know that guy at the ice rink the other night?” she offered after a few seconds of thinking.
I almost snorted. The most awkward guy had tried to flirt with her and she’d had no idea what to do. “Yeah?”
“I think his name was Bernie.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled into my arms, trying not to laugh. It was on our list of worst names ever. I couldn’t remember when we’d started that list.
“No, for real. I mean, I’m not sure, because he forgot to actually introduce himself, but I seriously think his friend called him Bernie.”
I picked up my head and propped my forehead in my hands. “I think Melvin was impressed with your skating skills,” I drawled. She was as bad as I was at ice skating. We only went once or twice a year.
She snort-laughed. “Yeah, that’s why he wanted to teach me. You should not have gone to the bathroom without me. He tried to help me up twice. He wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Too bad she hadn’t told me that when we’d still been there; I could have rewound for her. Though it would have been tempting to just watch it happen.
“Oh, hey. My mom says I need to do homework at my house the next few weeks so I can help her with the kids. Then I’ll probably have to stick around to help when the baby is born, so do you mind coming over when we do homework together?”
“Sure,” I answered. I didn’t mind going to Maya’s chaotic house nearly as much as she seemed to expect me to. She had three younger brothers who drove her crazy, but I thought they were hilarious.
“You guys, Jake completely ignored me today.” Nikki’s pouty face as she plopped down at the table was impressive. I was pretty sure Jake always ignored her, but I tried to look politely interested as she added, “He wasn’t here yesterday, and now he looks like he has a hangover or something.”
I sat up straight and looked toward Jake’s table. I knew exactly where he always sat, because for the last three weeks, I’d been keeping track of him. I passed him every day between second and third hour, I knew where he sat at lunch, and I had seventh hour with him. Half of me had been hoping for a reason to try to tell him the truth, while the other half was looking for confirmation that I’d made the right call—that he was an irresponsible jerk who didn’t take anything seriously and didn’t deserve to know that he wasn’t the only one who could rewind time.
In the three weeks since I’d found out about him, I had almost said something to Jake about a dozen times. But then I would remember how he had not only accused me of lying just to mess with him, but then he’d stood there and told my secret to someone I didn’t even know, like it was no big deal. The whole experience had solidified my conviction that having someone who knew about it—especially someone like Jake—would be more of a liability than an asset.
But now he was sitting with one elbow on the table, his head in his hand as he ate his lunch—the same position I had just been in. He looked terrible.
Maybe it was actually a good thing that Nikki was so obsessed with him, because it seemed important to know that he’d been absent the same day as me, and that now he seemed to feel as crappy as I did. Did this mean he’d felt the jolt? I’d always thought the jolts were random—side effects from rewinding that just popped up here and there. But if he had missed school the same day as I had, if he’d experienced the same thing as I had—the same hugely wrong thing—
It might be time to finally talk to Jake.
* * *
He caught me staring at him twice during creative writing.
I couldn’t help it; I was trying to talk myself into approaching him. Or maybe I was trying to talk myself out of it. Either way, I was also trying to imagine what I would even say to him. “Hi. I don’t know you, but you wrote a story like a month ago...and I’ve been watching you…” or “Hey, do you think the strands of time are making us sick or something?”
After he caught me staring the second time, I dropped my eyes quickly to my desk for a few seconds before looking up to be sure he wasn’t still looking at me.
He was. And he raised his eyebrows at me.
Mortified, I closed my eyes to rewind.
But—the strands.
They were flickering like a bad fluorescent lightbulb. Actually, like a bunch of bad fluorescent lightbulbs surrounding me, strobing, confusing.
My eyes snapped open an
d I felt my breath coming too quickly.
Mrs. Barton chose that moment to look my way. “Are you all right, Chloe?”
“I…I don’t feel good,” I mumbled, and then I escaped to the bathroom, leaving my stuff at my desk.
I locked myself in a stall and leaned against the wall, resting the back of my head against it and rubbing my forehead with my fingertips. Between this new development and my awkward-girl staring, I had no choice but to talk to Jake.
I groaned. I’d tried telling people about my ability before, and it had gone about as well as it had with Jake. Janie had believed me both times I’d told her, but she’d also blabbed it both times, so I’d rewound it. My parents had thought it was my grief manifesting itself in delusions, and they’d ended up taking me to a psychologist until I’d “admitted” to making it all up. After that, I’d vowed to never tell anybody about it again.
And I’d stuck to that—until three weeks ago, when it seemed like it would finally be safe to tell somebody. But even then it had been a disaster.
I told myself that maybe it was fine; maybe the strands were already getting better and I could avoid telling him again. I willed the strands to be fine as I opened my mind to them again.
But they weren’t fine. I had never seen or felt them this way before. The strands usually hummed and vibrated in a comfortable way—like a warm, purring cat, not a strobe light with an electrical short. This must have been because of yesterday’s jolt. What could it have possibly been?
I sighed. I knew I should tell Jake again. But...did it have to be Jake?
I stayed in the bathroom until the bell rang, and then I walked slowly back to my classroom. I slunk in and tried to pack up without Mrs. Barton noticing, but of course she saw me and asked, “Are you feeling okay?”
I was panicked and possibly mentally ill. Also, I’d made an idiot of myself in class. Sure, I was totally okay.
* * *
I “casually” approached Jake the next morning between classes, casting furtive glances around to be sure nobody noticed.
“Jake? Can I talk to you for a second?”
He turned, surprise furrowing his brow. “Uh—sure.”
I swallowed. “Great. In the library?” I gestured up the stairs and he hesitated. “I’ll be fast, I promise.” I just needed to ask him about the big jolt and the flickering strands, then we’d be done. Maybe I’d even rewind the conversation so he’d never remember it.
That’s what I told myself, anyway.
He was looking at me like I was definitely crazy, though that little pull of his mouth was reminiscent of yesterday when he’d clearly thought I was checking him out. I led him to a random aisle then turned and took a deep breath. “If I tell you something,” I began, “can you keep it a secret?”
His eyebrows rose and he watched me for a second. “Yes,” he said slowly, an almost smug expression flickering across his face.
“Okay.” I braced myself. “You were absent last Thursday, right?” I asked quietly.
“Y-yes...?”
I nodded. “So was I. And I think it was for the same reason.”
“Um, okay...? You had a migraine?”
I nodded once more. “Yeah, but it was—” I wasn’t sure why it was so hard to just say the words. I’d seen him find out twice, so I knew how he might react. Just say it, Chloe. “It was from a vertigo jolt. A really big one.”
“A—what?”
“A vertigo jolt. It’s part of being able to”—my voice stuck and I had to swallow again, my voice dropping practically to a whisper—“to rewind time.”
He stared at me like he had the first time I’d told him. But unlike the first time, he didn’t follow up the staring with questions or confusion or crazy eyes. Instead, he stood very still and asked, “What?”
His calm was disconcerting, but I made myself answer. “You can rewind time. So can I.”
He finally smiled a little, but then he scoffed. “Sure.” He hefted his backpack a little. “Well, I’m gonna go.”
“What?” This was nothing like the first time. Maybe I should have brought my original story to show him again. “Jake, I know you can do it. Your story—”
“What story?”
I lowered my voice again. “Your story last month, about rewinding to prevent the football accident. I know it’s true. Or at least, I know the ability is real. I can do it too.”
He lifted his eyebrows as if mildly interested. “Oh, really? Why don’t you prove it for me?”
I glared. “You’re going to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”
He just shrugged and lifted one hand.
I sighed. “Fine.” I would prove it to him. “What kind of toothpaste do you use?” It was the first question that popped into my head.
“Uh—what?”
“Toothpaste,” I repeated. “What kind?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. Again. “Yeah, I’m definitely gonna go.”
He turned to leave and I grabbed his arm in frustration. “You said to prove it, Jake. Don’t be a jerk.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that, but—seriously. “What kind of toothpaste?”
“Fine. I don’t know—Crest, I think?”
I nodded and let go of his arm. “Do you have any pets?”
His eyebrows stayed furrowed. “Yeah, a dog.”
“Named?”
He shook his head a little. “Mitzy. But what—” His voice was a mixture of confusion and annoyance as I spoke over him.
“What’s your worst grade right now?”
“How is that your business?”
“Come on, Jake. I’ll explain in a minute. Which class are you doing the worst in?” I wanted to make this quick—the less time pulling the strobing strands, the better.
He sighed. “I’m getting a C in physics.”
“Perfect.” I forced a smile at him then closed my eyes. The cords were just as flickery as they were yesterday, but I went ahead pulled.
It worked, but it definitely didn’t feel good. It was like getting a series of tiny mental shocks as I pulled; I couldn’t even hold on long enough to rewind to the beginning of this conversation.
“What story?” he was asking when I let go of the strands.
“Crest,” I blurted, putting my hand up to my head. It was buzzing.
He blinked in a dizzy way. “Uh, what?”
“You use Crest toothpaste.” He just stared as I added, “And you’re getting a C in physics.” His lips parted in shock. “And you have a dog. Named Miff—Misty—something—?”
“Mitzy,” he said slowly, lowering his head a little to look at me more closely. “How…?”
“I asked you. Just now.” I looked around quickly to be sure nobody was listening, then lowered my voice just in case before saying pointedly, “And I rewound it.” I watched as understanding began to lighten his features. “I told you, I can rewind time.”
He looked a little mystified, but then a slow smile started. His eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?” The smile spread across his face. “For real?” He lifted his hands, fingers spread, gesturing at me. “You can really—?” His hands clenched and I had the feeling he was trying very hard to contain his excitement.
I glanced down the aisle to be sure nobody was around, but my nervousness was overshadowed by relief at this new reaction.
“Yes! Okay, so—” Another lightbulb moment lit up his eyes and he blurted in a loud whisper, “Just now! So that’s why—” His fingers went to his temples again and he glanced around. I started to ask him about the flickering strands, but he leaned forward and said, “Listen.” He brought his hands together, tapping both pointer fingers around his lips as he thought. “Can you meet me—no, wait, let’s talk in class later.”
“No, I just need to ask you about the strands—”
But he took a step back, dropping his hands to his sides and going back to casual-Jake mode, except for the way his face was still lit up. “Okay?” He pointed a finger at me,
taking a couple more steps back. “Later?”
“I—yeah, I guess,” I responded, at a loss. He turned away as I repeated, “Later” mostly to myself, wondering how he’d managed to usurp the conversation and watching him trot down the stairs.
* * *
My stomach was in knots the rest of the day, warring between anxiety that he was going to try to talk to me in class and excitement at knowing I’d finally be able to talk to someone about my ability.
I tried not to look toward Jake’s desk as I sat down, but I couldn’t help sneaking a glance. He wasn’t there, so I got out my most recent short story and looked through it to avoid watching for him. It actually succeeded at holding my attention, but only until I felt a wave of vertigo. I closed my eyes and held the sides of my desk as I waited for it to pass, but I was startled to feel my arm nudged just before the bell rang. I looked up to see Jake raise his eyebrows at me on his way to his seat. My face heated at the direct attention.
I was afraid Mr. Non-Stealthy would just come on over and start talking to me when class ended, so when the bell rang I was all packed up and ready to bolt. I headed down the hall and pushed the outside doors open ahead of most everyone else before I heard him behind me. “Chloe!”
I turned around and gave him a would-be casual smile. “Oh hey, Jake.”
He gestured over his shoulder. “What was that about? Weren’t we going to...talk?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I just—didn’t want to talk with a bunch of people around.” Which there were, now that I’d slowed down. Masses of teenagers surging around us on their way to escape school.
“Yeah, I noticed.” I continued walking and he kept pace with me. When I didn’t say anything, he took a deep breath and continued. “So, you want a ride home?”
