Living Backwards

by Tracy Sweeney

  I gathered up my messenger bag and looked at the Word of the Day for April 30th.

  Redux: 1. brought back; 2. resurgent.

  Well, that’s a little obvious.

  I headed downstairs and grabbed a Cinnamon Pop Tart from the kitchen. I jammed it into my mouth and headed outside.

  Must remember to buy Cinnamon Pop Tarts after I dig the Korn CD out of my closet. Finding lots of hidden gems in 1999.

  I saw the old Toyota I drove until it fell apart outside in my parking space. I called her The Red Baron. I had names for a lot of inanimate objects. I climbed inside, feeling sentimental. I loved this car. She wasn’t slick. She wasn’t fancy. She was a good old broad. But even the excitement of being able to drive my beloved car again couldn’t lift my spirits. I put the key into the ignition and headed off to school with knots in my stomach.

  As I pulled into the parking lot of Reynolds High, I noticed how small the school looked to me now. I spent four years at NYU. My dorm was the size of this entire school. I noticed some familiar faces milling around; people who I hadn’t seen in years, but had been haunting my Facebook page. Tyler Burroughs was showing a group of kids a dent in his front fender. Newsflash, Tyler, your driving doesn’t get any better. Sarah Spellman was walking into school with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Oh Sarah, enjoy those perky boobs now because small and perky kicks big and wonky’s ass any day. Megan’s black convertible was parked next to Erik McDougall’s van. My heart sank. I wasn’t friends with Megan or Danielle yet. I didn’t even remember seeing much of Megan senior year. I couldn’t imagine going into school and pretending that they weren’t two of the most important people in my life. But maybe I didn’t have to. I was going to meet Danielle at orientation in little over a month. I wouldn’t really be changing the future if I befriended her a few weeks early. It was practically just a matter of days.

  Meg and I didn’t have any classes together and I wasn’t what you would call social; however, Danielle was in my World Lit class. I’d see her in class—whenever that was. I could say hi or maybe chat about the weather. As much as it sounded like I was getting ready to ask her to the prom, it was actually more important than prom. This had to work.

  As I entered the main hallway, my nostrils were assaulted. The place smelled like teenagers—all full of sweat and angst. If I was sent back to my college days at NYU, at least I’d be able to handle the inescapable smell of the burning incense in the dorm. This was just plain nasty. Pushing my irritation aside, I took a deep breath and headed for the office. Mrs. Jankowski was sitting behind the desk looking just as irritated. Swell.

  “Hi, Mrs. J,” I squeaked. My palms were sweating and the day had barely even started.

  “Jillian. Hello, how can I help you?” she asked with a wrinkled brow.

  “Well, I was hoping to get a copy of my emergency card from you, please.”

  Polite. Concise. I’m doing all right.

  “May I ask why you need that? It’s a peculiar request.”

  She eyed me cautiously. It didn’t occur to me that asking for a copy of my emergency card would sound weird, but now that I had actually said it out loud, it sounded really, really weird. There was no good reason why I should need her to make a copy for me, and because I obviously sucked at this, I never took the time to think of an excuse.

  “Well, um, I’ve been taking a medication for…some dizziness that I’ve been experiencing.”

  I felt really proud of my ability to think on my feet because Mrs. Jankowski looked genuinely concerned.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I continued. “I bumped my head because—you know me,” I added rolling my eyes. “Super klutz. So, it makes me very forgetful, and I’m concerned I may forget my locker combo or my class schedule…” Or what year it is. I could see that she was buying my explanation so I trailed off, quitting while I was ahead. She walked around to the file cabinet behind her desk, searched for my card and headed to the copy machine.

  “Here you go, dear, but please take care of yourself. We’d like you to make it to graduation in one piece.” She handed me the paper with a smile.

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. J.”

  I was a sweaty mess, but at least I could now find my locker and get the inevitable over with. Then as I turned the corner, I saw them. Danielle and Josh walking hand and hand. He stopped in front of a locker, spun her like a ballerina and kissed the top of her head. I had to catch myself from yelling “Josh, you nerd!” because, come on, who does that? But I held back, because I think if I randomly called a guy I’m not supposed to know a nerd, he’d be kind of pissed. Pretending not to know my friends was going to be harder than I thought. I had to talk to Danielle and fix this, so I needed to formulate a plan. Maybe I would see if she wanted to study together for…whatever we were studying. Then I would be my charming self and she would realize that I’m awesome and be my best friend.

  I may need a more detailed plan.

  Fortunately, I had some time to work on the execution because according to my class schedule, World Lit was after lunch. I had trig first period.

  After a quick stop at my locker, I headed for Room 218. My plan for going to class was to arrive late after everyone was sitting down. Then I could just take the seat that was left. But as I peeked through the window, there were a number of open seats. It was three weeks to graduation and senioritis had invaded Reynolds High. After a sigh of defeat, I decided that if worse came to worse, I would stick with the head trauma story. It was completely believable because I was clumsy as hell.

  “Ah, Jillian, so nice of you to join us today,” Mrs. Jacob snapped from the blackboard. “Maybe you can help us find the reference angle in the example on the board.”

  I had no idea what a reference angle was and was fairly certain that I never actually did. I thought I was really good in trig, but I obviously didn’t retain information well. I was under the impression that angles belonged in Geometry. Clearly math wasn’t my strong suit.

  “Um, no, that’s okay,” I responded casually. “I’m sure there’s someone else that would be more qualified to do that. I’ll just take my seat.” She looked stunned for a moment, opening then closing her mouth. I thought maybe I’d gotten out of answering the question except I noticed her staring as I sat down in one of the empty seats.

  “Jillian,” she began. And I already knew what was coming. “Your seat is over there next to Valerie.” She pointed across the room and my eyes met the bane of my best friend’s existence.

  Before I could think of an explanation as to why I was sitting in the wrong place, it hit me. I could fix this. I could make it so that Danielle and Val never go into business together. Maybe that was why I was here. It might be against the rules of time travel, but I doubt the laws of physics took Val Cooper into account.

  “Jillian,” Mrs. Jacob repeated.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I couldn’t stop grinning. “Um, I bumped my head last night and could I…”

  “Why don’t you go see the nurse?” Wasting no time, I took off to start planning. With a note from the nurse, I managed to avoid classes for the morning. I was too nervous about having to set up my girl date with Danielle. It seemed silly since I had known her for over ten years, but it didn’t change the fact that I was freaking out.

  By noon, I was a wreck. I decided that I needed to get some air and get away from the high school smell for a bit. Following the walkway around the side of the school, I noticed a small space behind the gymnasium facing the woods. There were a few milk crates turned upside down to sit on and the ground was littered with cigarette butts. It looked like a giant ashtray. I sat down on one of the milk crates, bending my knees and leaning my back against the wall. I closed my eyes and tried to take deep breaths to calm myself down, but it wasn’t working. I knew there was one thing that could help me relax, but it felt kind of wrong. It took me less than a second to decide I didn’t care. I grabbed the flask from my back pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a quick sip. Th
e familiar burn warmed me once again. Bending over, I rested my head on my knees, closed my eyes, and imagined a life where Danielle ran her own successful company. No inappropriate behavior to deal with. No lost clients. Her reputation intact. I was still visualizing how happy Danielle would be when I heard a strange noise.

  Standing near the corner of the building, lighting a cigarette and looking at me with a curious expression was Luke Chambers.

  CHAPTER 4

  Luke

  I woke to that annoying song by Santana playing on the radio. I must have knocked it on the floor while I slept because there was no way I would be listening to that crap. I grabbed my pillow and covered my head, attempting to drown out the noise. It didn’t work and I knew that if I was late again I’d get stuck in detention, and I wasn’t spending any more time at that school than was absolutely necessary. Since there was no use prolonging the inevitable, I slowly dragged myself out of bed and over to the bathroom.

  Passing the calendar on the wall, I saw the date—April 30th. It was almost time.

  22 Days

  528 Hours

  31,680 Minutes

  And I would be gone.

  It wasn’t that my aunt and uncle weren’t great. I’d always be grateful that Grace and Carter took me in. I just didn’t belong here. I never would. I think Carter always understood that about me.

  It didn’t come as a big surprise that I decided not to go the college route. I was a decent student and wouldn’t have had a problem getting into one of the local schools. It just wasn’t in the cards for me. Carter had actually been the one who suggested I talk to his cousin Jonas about working in his bar after graduation. Jonas owned a pub in Seattle with his wife Maura. I always loved tagging along with Carter when he’d go into the city to visit. Even though the bar would have its share of sad and lonely old guys drowning their sorrows in scotch, I still always felt comfortable there. Maybe because I knew how those guys felt.

  With Carter’s blessing, I drove to Seattle to meet with Jonas. It had been an unseasonably warm and dry day so I jumped at the chance to ride my bike into the city. The wind against my face and the vibration of the pavement below made me feel more alive than I had felt in a long time.

  It was just a matter of convincing Jonas that he should hire me. Every summer, he’d take on a college student to help out around the bar, but once school started he was usually left high and dry. I knew he needed someone on a permanent basis that he could depend on. I just needed him to accept that the person was me. I was a big risk and he would have to take a chance on me. At eighteen, I wouldn’t even be able to man the bar for three more years, but I hoped that he would be willing to teach me the ins and outs of the business in the meantime.

  One of the things I liked about Jonas was that he always shot from the hip. I didn’t expect him to take it easy on me.

  “Listen, Luke, you know I think you’re a great kid and that underneath all the attitude is a hard worker,” he began, “but I need to be sure you’re going to take this seriously. You’re family, but this is my livelihood. You can’t screw this up.”

  “Jonas, man…” I replied quickly, attempting to calm him down.

  “Don’t ‘Jonas, man’ me. I mean it, Luke. The hours are long. The pay is shitty and you won’t have much time off. In fact, I’d need you to start right after graduation. I need to know you’re committed.”

  There was always a steady stream of bars opening and closing in Seattle, but Jonas’ pub was successful and had been thriving for years. It was insane for me to pass up the opportunity even though he made it sound like a prison sentence. This was what I wanted. This was where I belonged.

  “May 22nd is graduation. You can have me on the 23rd, man. You have my word.” We shook on it. Jonas slapped me on the shoulder and smiled.

  “May 23rd it is.”

  I just needed to survive the next twenty-two days and I could start over. Earning my way. Not having things given to me because I had become someone’s obligation. I needed to do this on my own.

  I heard the sounds of dishes clattering downstairs. Grace was most likely making a complicated breakfast like French crepes. She’d want to watch me eat them with wide eyes while waiting for my approval. Grace was writing a cookbook and I had become her unwilling guinea pig. While I wanted a simple bowl of Cheerios, Grace wanted to make me eggs benedict. And if it wasn’t enough for me to eat the drippy eggs, I needed to let her know what I thought of her hollandaise sauce. I wanted to yell ‘I don’t give a damn about hollandaise sauce’, but Grace would look so genuine and excited. So, I’d tell her it was creamy, but not too heavy, and I’d finish the plate. But for some reason, this morning I just couldn’t deal. I wanted to get to school, do my time, and work on my bike later on. I didn’t want to debate the merits of strawberry jam versus strawberry preserves.

  Yes, they’re different and it pisses me off that I know that. I wish I could climb out the window.

  With a groan, I headed down the stairs and made my way to Grace’s war zone. Her back was to me and her hair was falling out of the bun on the top of her head as she cleaned the dishes. A plate of Belgian waffles was placed at my seat along with fresh fruits and some whipped cream.

  I wonder if she’d be willing to add “Bowl of Cheerios” to her cookbook. Then I could have a bowl of cereal for once like a normal person.

  “Morning, Grace,” I greeted with a yawn.

  “Luke,” she beamed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m dying for you to try my vanilla waffles. Your uncle thought the vanilla flavoring was too strong, but I really think it’s the perfect amount.” And here it comes. “What do you think?” she asked looking at me with those wide eyes.

  I wanted her book to be great, but I’ll be honest, even if I started to choke on vanilla, I’d tell her that they were the best damn waffles I had ever eaten. Carter and Grace didn’t have kids. I think that if they wanted kids they would’ve had them. It always bothered me that as wonderful as they were to me, having to raise a teenage boy with baggage was never in their master plan. I owed them a lot so if she wanted to hear that she made the best waffles I’d ever eaten, I’d tell her they were the best waffles I’d ever eaten. She deserved so much more.

  “Grace, seriously,” I began while still chewing. “These waffles are amazing.” I wasn’t lying. They were great. I had no idea how Carter knew whether there was or wasn’t enough vanilla, but I wasn’t dwelling. I couldn’t have cereal, but I wouldn’t be an idiot and complain. I’d eat my waffles like a man.

  “I knew it!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “I’m keeping the recipe as is. Oh, and we’re having osso bucco for dinner tonight. I’m adding the lemon zest this time to see if it gives it the kick it needs.”

  This would be the third time in as many weeks that we’ve had osso bucco for dinner. Find me another student at Reynolds High that knows what osso bucco is. I dare you.

  “I think I’m going to be late tonight,” I began apologetically.

  “Late? Why?” She sounded so disappointed. God, I hated when that happened.

  “I’m taking my bike to school today so Scanlon can take a look at it. I really need to find out what that sound is when I’m idling,” I explained. “So I’ll be spending some time in the shop after school.”

  I started taking Scanlon’s auto shop class junior year and began rebuilding a ‘73 Honda CL 175. The parts were used and nothing was top-of-the-line, but it was mine and that was what mattered.

  Scanlon was a good guy. He was probably the only teacher at the school who was worth listening to. He had a friend that could sometimes get parts cheap and seemed to enjoy working on the bike with me. I just hoped he could shed some light on the problem.

  “You know I hate that bike, Luke. Why can’t you just drive your car? That’s why we got it.” Yes, you bought the Lexus. I rebuilt my bike. It’s mine.

  “I don’t know. Because it’s nice out. Because school’s almost over. Because I want to annoy you. Take your pic
k.”

  She shook her head and threw her dish towel at me.

  “Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can save you some and you can tell me what you think later. But don’t be too late, okay?”

  I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed my beat-up rucksack, and headed for the door. Tossing the bag on my back, I jumped on my bike and heard the rattling sound again. I needed to get that figured out before I headed to Seattle. I probably won’t have the time to screw around with my bike once I start working.

  I was already in a bad mood when I pulled into the parking lot. The rattling seemed to have gotten worse at every stop. It sounded like it was the clutch side of the engine, but I wouldn’t be able to take a look until later, and I knew it would bother me all day. While I parked my bike, I noticed Josh Fletcher waving me over. He was standing with his girlfriend and looking miserable.

  “Hey, man,” I greeted him.

  I was lucky to have Josh for a lab partner considering some of the alternatives in our class. He knew what he was doing and never bailed on our assignments. He had a good head on his shoulders and never seemed to let shit bother him. If he did, he never let it show. But today he looked really stressed out.

  “Luke, please tell me you still have your copy of the lab that’s due today. I’m dying here.”

  “Yeah, I still have it. Why?”

  “I love her, but Danielle here had to visit every limousine company in the Greater Seattle area before settling on the perfect one for the prom,” he began, rolling his eyes. “I was trying to tweak a few things in our report while she talked for-ev-er with every sales rep at every place we visited.” It was Danielle’s turn to roll her eyes clearly not feeling very apologetic. “I must have left it in one of the thirteen places we went to.”

  “Jesus, Josh,” Danielle chided, “reel it in a little, will ya?” Dismissing him, she turned to me. “So, Luke, I have the perfect limo booked. Have you got yours reserved yet? We have room in ours!”