Class of 1983: A Young Adult Time Travel Romance

by Victoria Maxwell

  “That’s the truth,” said Ben, staring into his pancakes. “I’m sure these used to be bigger.”

  “I’m so sick of this shit,” said Tricia rudely.

  “Woah, what’s your damage Tricia?” asked Lacey.

  “Come on Trish, eat your pancakes. You’re just hungover,” said Ben.

  “You are all just a bunch of fakes and liars. People think I’m a freak because I wear a lot of eye-liner and I'm the only person in about six million miles who listens to punk music but, Jesus!”

  “Liars?” asked Lacey innocently, “I’m not a liar.”

  “You pretend you’re in love with Greg at the bar, but it’s only because you can’t find a real boyfriend,” Tricia said.

  Lacey’s mouth dropped open.

  “Nick is living in Sammy’s shadow,” Tricia continued. “Peggy can’t even admit that she likes Sammy, just admit it Peg. He likes you. Stop making it so hard. It's not hard. Ask him out, if he says no, move on with your stupid life.”

  Peggy looked at her stunned.

  “Come on now,” said Ben. “I know you’re just hungover and tired, eat something then I’ll drive you home.”

  “You are the worst one!” Tricia shouted, tears welling up in her eyes.

  Ben looked around, worried. “Please Trish,” he pleaded.

  “And now this,” her arm flailed in the direction of June-Belle and Horace. She pushed past Nick and stood up, throwing some cash on the table. She walked over to June-Belle and Horace’s table.

  “O.M.G what is she doing?” Peggy asked.

  “O.M.G-a-rama,” said Lacey, her eyes doubling in size.

  “She’s just using you,” said Tricia to Horace, who looked like he wanted the booth to swallow him whole. “Can’t you see it?”

  “Just go home Tricia, you’re drunk,” said June-Belle, giggling awkwardly. “We’re just two friends over here having breakfast.”

  Horace raised his eyebrows at June-Belle. “Friends? Is that what we are June-Belle?” he asked putting down his menu.

  “See?” Tricia said. “You are all a bunch of fakers and you can all go to hell.”

  Everyone in the diner sat silently as they watched her walk out.

  “What was that all about?” asked Peggy.

  “She’s in love with Horace, isn’t it obvious?” Lacey said. Everyone stared at Lacey. “Didn’t you guys know?”

  “Horace and Tricia? That’s stupider than Horace and June-Belle,” said Peggy. Horace was a nerd and Tricia was a punk. That was so not ever going to work.

  “I'll go after her,” said Ben, throwing some money on the table and running after her.

  Horace and June-Belle were having a heated discussion and Horace looked pissed, like a lover scorned.

  “Should we go find her?” Nick asked.

  “Let Ben talk to her,” Lacey said, finishing off her plate and eyeing up the left-over pancakes on the table. Peggy pushed her plate towards Lacey.

  “Do you guys really think Rochelle has changed?” Nick asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Hell yes,” said Lacey.

  “I haven’t known her long enough to know what she was like before, but she's never been that nice to me,” said Peggy.

  “I know what Tricia means,” Nick said.

  “About what?” asked Lacey. “Because I really do love Greg the barman, he’s so dreamy.”

  “About me,” said Nick. “I am living in Sammy’s shadow.” Peggy thought about the day she met Nick, how she thought he was a less attractive version of Sammy. She watched him as he frowned into his plate, toying with a last piece of pancake.

  “Nick, Sammy’s cool and sexy and all that, but you are the one with the brains,” Lacey said.

  “Sammy does better than me in most classes,” Nick replied.

  “Stop trying to be anything you’re not and just be yourself,” said Peggy.

  He looked up at her, his blue eyes sad and searching. “You’re probably right.”

  “What's happening?” asked Lacey as they all looked over at the table where Horace and June-Belle were sitting. Horace had put his brown cardigan over his white button up shirt and stood up.

  June-Belle put her hand around Horace's wrist to stop him. She began talking, making the 'crazy' gesture and rolling her eyes around, obviously talking about Tricia. Horace shrugged her off and walked out, leaving her alone and looking very uncomfortable.

  * * *

  Peggy sat silently in Lacey’s red Chevette as they drove down Main Street on the way back to Janet’s house.

  “Slow down,” Peggy said urgently.

  “What is it?” Lacey asked, slamming on the brakes.

  Peggy shook her head, “I just thought I saw someone, but it wasn’t him.”

  “Who?”

  “My best friend from home. I think it was just someone in the same shirt he used to have.” She heard herself and stopped. 'Used to have'. It probably would have been more correct to say, 'will have'. Future tense. Maybe that was even the exact Van Halen shirt Jack owned. He did get it at a vintage store just down the road, or a store that will be just down the road. Peggy's head began to pound again. It was becoming a constant in her life, these headaches. She couldn't wait to get home and pop a pain killer.

  “A guy friend?” asked Lacey, grinning as a car behind her honked and she began to drive again.

  Peggy smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, the most awesome guy I know.”

  “Why aren't you with him if he's so awesome?”

  “You mean like, together?” asked Peggy.

  “Yeah, why aren't you together if he's so great?”

  Peggy laughed. “Because he's gay!”

  “Gay?”

  “Yes, he's gay, so he's my best friend, but that's it.”

  “How do you know he's gay?” asked Lacey.

  “Because he is.”

  “Did he say he was?”

  “He didn't have to say he was,” said Peggy.

  “Does he have a boyfriend?” Lacey asked.

  “No.” Peggy’s most recent thoughts about Jack had confused her. Sleeping in his bed. His arm draped around her.

  “I never met someone who was gay before.” Lacey seemed excited at the possibility of meeting him.

  “I'm sure you've met loads of gay people,” Peggy said.

  “Did he ever have a boyfriend?”

  “Who?”

  “Your friend in the shirt.”

  “Oh, no, not really.”

  “Let me get this straight Peg. You have a gorgeous friend who is a boy, who never said he was gay and never had a boyfriend.”

  “I never said he was gorgeous.”

  “He sounds gorgeous.”

  “He is gorgeous, I guess, in a nerdy kinda way.”

  Lacey made a tutting sound. “I guess he's in like, Canada or whatever anyway, and Sammy Ruthven is right here,” she said.

  “I should go back and visit soon.”

  “Back to Canada?”

  “Yeah, I need to pick up some stuff, I might not even be in school this week.” Peggy didn't want to leave, but she had to sort out her future life before she could fully live in the past and all this talk of Jack was making her wonder how he was, and what was happening back home. Home. Such a strange word to use to describe that place, that time. Also, even though she had been warned and had refused to let herself do it the first time, she was dying to Google everyone. Every day the temptation grew. And anyway, what was the worst that could happen?

  Twenty-Eight

  Chicken

  Janet didn’t have a rule about shoes in the house like her actual mom did, but Peggy kicked off her studded flats at the door anyway. She was about to throw the vintage purse that she’d bought at a thrift store in the present (which made it vintage, but new, but old so that was weird) on the couch, but it was all tidy. All her bedding had gone and so had all her bags. Was Janet kicking her out? Did Janet know what had happened last night? She walked into the kitche
n, anxiety rising in her chest.

  “I’ve got a surprise!” Janet wiped her hands on a tea towel and smiled and Peggy let out a small sigh of relief.

  Janet led her up the stairs and opened the door to the sewing room. All the sewing stuff was gone and in its place was a single bed covered in a blanket of pale pink polka dots. A frilly pink lamp sat on a nightstand beside it. There was a small white desk by the window and a matching bookcase against the wall. A few of Janet’s books sat on one shelf, including The Nuns of Santolsa.

  Peggy stood quietly taking it in. It wasn’t the huge bedroom with king sized bed and private en-suite she had in her own time, but it felt more like home than her own room had ever.

  “Do you like it?” Janet asked nervously. “I know your family has money and I’m sure your room back home is nicer. It isn’t much.”

  “It’s perfect,” Peggy said as her eyes welled up with tears. It had been a crazy day and she was still feeling a bit hungover, but Janet’s kindness was overwhelming. Janet put an arm around her and laughed nervously.

  “I really want you to stay, but it’s your choice. If you don’t want to, I’ll just turn it back into the sewing room, so don’t feel like you are obliged in any way. I just wanted you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

  “But where will you do your sewing?” Peggy asked.

  “I set up a corner in my room, it’s kind of nice actually,” Janet said. “So, do you like it?”

  “I love it,” Peggy replied.

  “Do whatever you want to it, posters, anything.”

  “Thanks,” Peggy said as she sat on her bed and ran her hands across the clean smelling blankets.

  “That's Ray!” Janet jumped as the doorbell rang.

  “I thought you looked a little dressed up for moving furniture,” said Peggy, checking out Janet’s tight black trousers and green silk shirt, a gold belt cinching her tiny waist.

  “Ray’s taking me to dinner and a movie in Salt Valley, so I won’t be home until late. Are you going to be OK? You can come with us if you want?”

  “No, no, you love birds go have a good time,” Peggy smiled.

  “You sure?”

  Peggy nodded. She liked the idea of a movie, but she was exhausted.

  “OK, well there’s a pizza in the freezer or you can have whatever else you can find to eat.”

  Peggy looked out her new bedroom window at the peachy pink late afternoon sky and smiled. She wasn’t sure how things could get better.

  “I nearly forgot to tell you,” Janet said as she was walking out the door, “Sammy called.”

  Peggy’s mouth dropped open.

  “I wrote his number down by the phone for you to call him back, have a good night!” Janet rushed out of Peggy's room, down the stairs and out the front door, leaving Peggy standing, staring out at Ray's car driving off, heart thumping wildly.

  He called. Sammy had called. He had called her.

  She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen to the phone. There was no message, just a number. She looked around frantically and promptly began freaking out. She was way too nervous to call him back, so she grabbed a can of 7UP from the fridge and opened a bag of corn chips. She tried to eat one, but her mouth was so dry she couldn't make enough saliva to chew it. She sipped the drink instead.

  She wished she could text Lacey and ask her what to do. It took her about ten minutes to work out that she could look up Lacey in the phone book and that she’d probably be home by now. After all, how did Sammy get her number? The phonebook. Duh. She thought about Sammy going through the phone book looking for her number and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Hello Fitzgerald residence,” answered Lacey, sounding very grown up and professional.

  “Lacey?” Peggy asked.

  “Who’s this?” asked Lacey, sounding all normal again.

  “It’s me, Peggy.”

  “Oh, you sound all different on the phone, what’s up?”

  “Sammy called,” Peggy said.

  “Oh yeah, what did he say?”

  “I don’t know, I wasn’t home, I was still out with you.”

  “OK, so did you call him back?”

  “No, I don’t know what to do.”

  “O.M.G,” said Lacey.

  “What should I do?”

  “Call him!” Lacey shouted so loud Peggy had to move the phone away from her ear for a second.

  “I can’t! I’m too nervous!” Why couldn’t she just text him or see if he was online and send him a smiley face or something? It was so much easier than this calling stuff. She'd never even called a boy before, well, except for Jack, but he hardly counted.

  “You have to,” Lacey instructed.

  “I don’t have to.”

  “Well, you kinda do. Because if you don’t, then he’s going to think you ignored his call and he’s not going to call you again.”

  “Why does he want to talk to me?”

  “I don’t know Peg, just call him,” Lacey said, sounding annoyed.

  “Can you call him and find out?” Peggy pleaded.

  “No, you call him!”

  “Can you come over and hold my hand?”

  “You’re getting ridiculous, go call him, then call me back and tell me everything you said, and everything he said.” And then she hung up, leaving Peggy listening to a bunch of beeps.

  * * *

  She stared at the numbers in front of her until they didn’t even look like numbers anymore and she started to forget what numbers even looked like. She picked up the phone, put the phone down, sipped her 7UP, picked up the phone, put it down, finished the 7UP, grabbed another one, picked up the phone and put the phone down again.

  She screamed.

  “I can’t do this!” she yelled at herself.

  She did deep breathing exercises. She did some yoga poses on the lounge room rug. She had one more 7UP and just when she was starting to feel high on sugar, the phone rang. She went into a panic, heart beating in time with the ringing she lifted the receiver to her ear.

  “Hello?” she said, her voice wavering.

  “What did he say?” asked Lacey.

  “Nothing,” said Peggy slumping onto a bar stool. “I didn’t call him yet.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Lacey asked, “it’s been like half an hour.”

  “I’m going to call him, I just need some more time to psyche myself up... Hello? Lacey?” the phone was beeping at her again. She replaced the receiver and as soon as she did it rang again.

  “Lacey, I am going to do it,” she began.

  “Going to do what?” asked a sexy guy’s voice.

  “Who is this?” Peggy demanded.

  “It’s Sammy.”

  Peggy nearly fell off the chair. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

  “Peggy?” he asked, his voice sounding even sexier from however far away he was calling from.

  “Yes?” she croaked as she began twisting the long phone cord around her wrist.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “I just wanted to check you were OK, after last night.”

  Peggy's shoulders dropped. He was just being a friend and checking up on her.

  “I’m OK, a little hungover I guess.” She was suddenly able to speak again, now that she knew he was just calling as a friend.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  That was totally something a friend would ask, if they were concerned about you. Wasn’t it?

  “I had pancakes,” she said.

  “For dinner?”

  Why was he asking her about dinner?

  “No, I haven’t eaten dinner, pancakes were lunch, I guess. The bits I ate.”

  “Is Janet home?”

  “No, she’s out on a date.”

  “Have you got dinner?”

  Why was he still talking about dinner? Peggy became nervous again and her voice quivered slightly as she said, “I’ve got a frozen pizza.”

 
; “I’ll bring you something.”

  “Uh…” she stammered.

  “Do you like chicken?”

  “I love chicken.”

  “Cool. See you soon.”

  And Peggy was left listening to beeps for the third time that night.

  What is happening? She thought.

  The answer was that Sammy Ruthven was coming over and he was bringing her dinner and it was the most amazing thing that had ever happened.

  * * *

  She swapped her shirt for a loose-fitting white tank top and threw a blue cardigan with silver buttons over the top. She was about to put some bright pink lipstick on and then settled for light pink gloss. She really wanted to look like she hadn't made any effort, even though she'd been staring at herself for the last twenty minutes. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, puffed up her hair, and took some deep breaths.

  She was in a total state. She felt like she'd consumed a thousand coffees. Her hands were shaking, and she shook herself. She breathed in and out deeply. Nothing helped. Sammy Ruthven was bringing dinner over. Nothing was going to make her cool about that. She began to feel sick, like she was actually going to throw up. She had never felt like this before. Not with Big Mick, not with anyone. She didn't get how people had relationships, how did they ever get past this?

  She was lying on the hallway carpet trying to breathe normally when the doorbell rang. She swore under her breath and seriously thought about ignoring it. She could just go to bed and never know the anxiety and awkwardness of what it would be like having dinner with him. Of course, she’d eaten in front of him almost every day at school, but this was different, it was practically their first date. Was it? She silently screamed up towards the ceiling. She’d time travelled through three decades but couldn’t cope with a date. Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe it was just a friend bringing food. Heck, who was she kidding? Sammy Ruthven did not bring girls food unless it was a date. Or maybe he did. She didn’t even know him.

  The doorbell rang again, and she wondered how many times he would ring it before he would turn around and go home. It wasn't like he could just text her from out there. It rang once more and in-spite of her head's protests her body jumped up to standing and before she knew what she was doing, she was opening the door.