Rewind

by Peter Lerangis

  Adam felt a momentary pull. A smear of color, the pop…

  And then, blue.

  Edgar’s blue.

  Adam was facing Edgar’s mirror. It showed an empty room.

  No reflection. As if I’m not here.

  He moved closer.

  And he saw the room wasn’t empty.

  Edgar was behind him to the left. Still sitting at his desk. Writing. His back to Adam.

  It hurt to see him. Worse than Adam expected. He felt it sharply in his gut as he turned around.

  He wanted to yell out. Warn him.

  But Adam was a phantom. A ghost. Invisible and silent.

  How can you be sure?

  Try it.

  “Edgar?” Adam walked closer, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Edgar didn’t turn around. He was writing intently.

  Adam looked over his shoulder. Edgar was recording hockey statistics. Goals and assists for each player. Game by game.

  Several columns were full of numbers. The right side was blank—the upcoming games, beginning January 16.

  Games Edgar would never play.

  Reach him.

  Adam lifted his hand. He placed it on Edgar’s shoulder.

  He could feel the fabric. Barely.

  But Edgar wasn’t reacting.

  REACH HIM!

  Adam tried again. As if the touch would pull Edgar away from the lake. As if it would shield him, protect him from death.

  Edgar dropped his pen.

  With a flick of the wrist, he swatted his shoulder. Right where Adam had touched it.

  Blip.

  The surroundings melted into a brief swirl of blue.

  Ripley’s room instantly materialized around him.

  Ripley was holding the camera. The red light was off. “Enough,” he said.

  “What are you doing?” Adam pleaded.

  “Not Oscar material,” Ripley remarked. “I’d say C plus for the hysterical emotions, but A minus for the pantomime.”

  “Pantomime? But Edgar was— couldn’t you see?”

  “Adam,” Lianna said, “you were here the whole time, doing all these strange gestures.”

  This is not happening.

  Adam took the camera out of Ripley’s hands, set it back on the desk, and turned it on. “Go. Somebody try it besides me!”

  Ripley grinned. “Escape into the past!” he cried, grabbing Lianna by the waist.

  “Ripley, no!” Lianna screamed.

  But it was too late.

  They were both standing in front of the lens now.

  Lianna was sweating, glancing around uncertainly.

  A look of wonder passed across Ripley’s face.

  He sees it!

  “Can you hear me?” Adam called out. “What do you see?”

  “Oh, wow…” Ripley said. “There’s Washington crossing the Delaware…Lincoln emancipating the slaves…Leave It to Beaver making its season premiere…”

  Lianna rolled her eyes. “Ripley, you’re a jerk.”

  PROGRESS REPORT

  Subject: Adam Sarno

  ACCEPTANCE SUBMENU

  Phase 1. Discovery. PASSED.

  Phase 2. Facility. PASSED.

  Phase 3. Commitment. PASSED.

  Phase 4. Fulfillment.

  8

  EDGAR FELT MY TOUCH.

  Adam bounded down Ripley’s back stairs and lifted his bike upright off the grass.

  “So I can take it?” Ripley asked.

  Adam heard the words, but they weren’t registering.

  Which means I can do something. I can affect the past.

  “HELLO?” Ripley shouted. “ARE YOU HEARING ME, ADAM?”

  “Huh?” Adam said.

  “Read my lips,” Ripley said. “Can I take your videocamera? To try to fix it?”

  Adam slung the backpack around his shoulder. “It’s not broken.”

  And it may help me save a life.

  Somehow.

  If he could make his presence felt, maybe he could warn Edgar. Prevent him from going to the lake.

  Lianna was riding her bike in slow circles on the driveway, lost in thought.

  “Oh, you have plans?” Ripley asked. “Maybe a trip to ancient Greece tonight?”

  “Stop it, Ripley!” Lianna spoke up. “You just want to figure out how you can travel into the past.”

  Ripley’s jaw dropped. “Whaaaat?”

  “Maybe he sees something we don’t,” Lianna said. “And you can’t deal with it.”

  “Whoa, Lianna, you’ve been hanging around the Time Nerd too long. Come with me to practice. Slap a few. Come to your senses.”

  Lianna glowered at him. “You know I hate hockey.”

  She did. Even back then. Edgar dragged her to practice that day. He had such a crush on her.

  “Suit yourself.” Ripley’s jaw was clenched. “Enjoy your delusions. Both of you.”

  Ripley hopped on his bike and rode away. Lianna and Adam went in the other direction.

  For a long time neither spoke. Finally Adam said, “You do believe me, don’t you?”

  “I want to,” Lianna replied. “But how can it be true? How do I know you’re not playing a prank on Ripley?”

  “I don’t know how to play a prank, Lianna. Look, you have to be on my side. You know what this means. We can do something about the accident. Change it.”

  They came to a stop in front of the Frazers’ house. Lianna gave Adam a hard, appraising look. “Okay, Sarno, I want you to take out the camera, look at my house, and tell me what you see. Right now.”

  Adam did as he was told. He trained the videocamera on Lianna’s front porch. “The yard is full of snow,” he reported. “There’s a snow creature in front—looks like a dinosaur. Let’s see…a car’s pulling up the driveway, a dark blue Chevy, license plate 908-EZN. An old lady’s getting out…I think it’s your grandmother…and Jazz is running out the front door to greet her.”

  Jazz.

  Adam smiled sadly. Jazz had died around the same time as Edgar did. Adam never knew how it happened. At the time, other things were on his mind.

  Lianna’s face was drawn. “I remember that visit. It was the last time Grandma drove a car. As she was leaving, she put the car in the wrong gear and ran over Jazz.”

  “I didn’t know…”

  “I was so upset, I didn’t tell anyone. And Edgar’s accident happened the next day. It was the worst week of my life. Grandma was so freaked about what happened to Jazz, she gave up driving.”

  And eventually she died, too.

  A train accident. About two years ago. Adam remembered it vaguely.

  “That’s why she started visiting us by train…” Lianna’s voice trailed off.

  “I’m sorry.” He put an arm tentatively around Lianna’s shoulder.

  She leaned into him and said softly, “I believe you, Adam. About the camera.”

  Finally.

  Adam smiled. “Lianna…I’m going to use this thing…to save Edgar.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure. I can move things in the past. I can make myself be felt. Maybe I can warn him. Or push him away”

  “But that’s impossible. You can’t change the past.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. No one’s ever tried it.”

  “Wait a minute.” Lianna shook her head. “Edgar died, Adam. It’s a fact. He’s not here. So even if you go to the lake on Saturday and do all you can, it won’t work. It can’t. Because if it could, he’d be with us today.”

  “Just because Edgar’s not around, it doesn’t mean I never saved him. I just haven’t saved him yet. Saturday hasn’t come.”

  Lianna sighed. “Look, Adam. Maybe you do see the past. Maybe you even travel into it, in some form. But don’t delude yourself. What’s done is done. Try this, and you’ll just end up watching the accident all over again.”

  “Maybe. But that’s all right, too. At least I’ll finally know exactly what happened.”

  “You already
do. How is it going to feel to stand there and watch your best friend die—again? Do you really want that?”

  No. I don’t.

  Just being in Edgar’s room was painful enough.

  This might be too much to bear.

  But if I don’t, I’ll lose my chance forever. I’ll never know.

  And that would be worse.

  “I’m not sure,” Adam said. “Maybe you could come with me.”

  Lianna looked horrified. “Are you out of your mind? I will not go through that again.”

  “But you won’t see it. Only I will.”

  “I’ll be experiencing it through you. And I’ll have to pick up the pieces when you totally freak out.”

  “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  “Well, think for a change, Adam. It’s a stupid idea. Totally stupid. Take my advice. Forget you even thought of it.”

  With that, she turned and rode up her driveway.

  This is what I feared.

  9

  “FOR HOMEWORK, YOU MAY begin the unit on secants…”

  Adam had no idea what his math teacher was saying. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept at all last night.

  He looked at the wall clock. Almost 3:00.

  Twenty-six more hours.

  He fingered a crumpled-up note, opening it inside his math textbook.

  All night long, he’d thought about what Lianna said. Bounced it back and forth.

  He hadn’t seen that look in her eye since…

  The accident.

  When the bell rang, Adam was the first out of the class.

  The hallways were a jumble of noise and light. His head hurt. The backpack was weighing him down. He couldn’t concentrate.

  “Hey, cutie.”

  Adam had to do a double take. It was Lianna, but it didn’t sound like her.

  “Don’t take it too personally,” she said with a laugh. “I say that to all the boys.”

  Adam tried to return her smile confidently, nonchalantly. But he felt like an idiot.

  Lianna’s face grew serious. “I’m sorry about last night. I totally understand how you feel.”

  “Same here,” Adam said. “I couldn’t sleep thinking about this. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the place to talk about it in detail. Come to my house after dinner—like, seven o’clock? We can watch a movie and talk.”

  “Sure,” Adam said.

  Over Lianna’s shoulder, Ripley was approaching. He gave Adam a tight smile and put his arm around Lianna. “My house?”

  Lianna looked at Adam. “We’d love to.”

  “We?” Ripley asked.

  “Should we tell him, Adam?” Lianna asked.

  Adam cringed.

  Wrong, wrong question.

  “Tell me what?” Ripley said.

  “Nothing,” Adam said feebly. “Uh, I have to go home.”

  “It’s Friday. There’s no homework,” Ripley snapped. “What kind of nothing?”

  Lianna shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe it anyway.”

  “Try me.”

  Lianna looked helpless. And Ripley was not going to give up.

  Adam sighed.

  He knows what’s up. I pulled him into this.

  As they walked out to the bike rack, Adam began to explain his plan.

  Ripley laughed at first. On the ride to his house, he fired some suspicious questions. But Adam kept at it. Patiently, matter-of-factly.

  By the time they reached the Wellers’ house, Ripley had fallen silent.

  His sister, Caryn, was eating a snack in the kitchen as they trudged through.

  “Don’t say hi,” she grumbled.

  “Sorry,” Ripley said absently

  An apology. Caryn looked stunned.

  I have him. I think.

  For what it’s worth.

  Ripley led Adam and Lianna up to his room. He shut the door behind them.

  “Adam, this is risky,” he said, pacing the floor.

  “So you believe me?” Adam asked.

  Ripley didn’t answer for a long time. “I still need to see some evidence. More than that tape. What if I come with you Saturday?”

  “What?” Lianna exclaimed. “You just said it was risky.”

  “Risky to do it alone,” Ripley replied. “You don’t want to go. I could be there to help, in case something goes wrong.”

  “I am not hearing this,” Lianna said. “I don’t know what’s harder to believe—Adam’s time travel or your conversion into a kind person.”

  Adam watched Ripley’s face. Ripley was lost in thought, growing excited.

  This was not a trick. It couldn’t be.

  “In the meantime,” Ripley announced, “I’ll try to fix the camera.”

  “So that’s it!” Lianna said. “Ripley, the camera only works for Adam.”

  “It’s got to be an eyesight thing,” Ripley said. “You know, like some people can see certain frequencies that others can’t.”

  “Frequencies?” Lianna repeated.

  “Well, why do you think Adam’s the only one? His inner specialness?”

  “Ripley, you are missing the whole point!”

  Ripley wheeled around to her. “But of course you’re not,” he said sardonically. “You never do!”

  Enough.

  Adam should have known Ripley had an ulterior motive.

  He did not want to be in the room another minute. “I’ll…get some snacks.”

  He slipped downstairs to the kitchen.

  Caryn looked up from a magazine. “They fighting again?”

  “I guess.”

  “Might as well go home. You don’t want to be here when the fireworks start. It can get ugly.”

  Adam took a bag of pretzels from the cupboard and joined her at the table. He couldn’t leave without his camera. He’d just have to wait it out.

  Which, fortunately, didn’t take long. When the sounds of arguing stopped, Adam headed back upstairs with the pretzels.

  Ripley’s door was closed. From behind it, Adam could hear low, urgent whispering.

  He knocked.

  Total silence.

  Then Lianna called out, “Adam?”

  Adam pushed the door open. Lianna and Ripley were sitting casually on the floor.

  Too casually.

  Adam looked over to where he’d set down his backpack.

  The pack was there. Open and empty.

  “Where’s my videocamera?” Adam demanded.

  Ripley reached down and pulled it out from a pile of clothes on the floor. “Here.”

  “What’s it doing out of the bag?”

  “We were just looking at it.”

  Adam grabbed the camera, turned it on, and looked through the viewfinder.

  Edgar’s room came into focus. Adam sighed with relief.

  Then he spotted Edgar, off to the left, laughing hysterically. His mom was sitting on the windowsill, also laughing.

  Mrs. Hall.

  Adam felt a tug in his chest. He missed her, too.

  He remembered what she looked like after Edgar’s death. Gray. Haggard. As if she’d never smile again.

  And now here she was, content. Young-looking. Full of beauty and hope. Not suspecting a thing.

  She and Edgar were both looking at something off to the left, something that was making them laugh. Adam swung the camera around to see what it was.

  “Adam?” Lianna said.

  But Adam wasn’t paying attention to her.

  He saw a boy dancing around in a baggy Santa Claus suit with the hat pulled down over his head—the outfit Edgar’s dad used to wear at the department store during Christmas.

  The boy took off his hat and bowed.

  It was Adam. Age ten.

  Shaking, Adam put down the camera.

  “What?” Lianna asked.

  “Nothing,” Adam replied. “I just saw me, that’s all.”

  “Whoa,” Ripley said. “This is, like, so X-Files.”


  Memories of that day were seeping into his brain—the Santa costume, followed by an evening of sledding in the moonlight.

  He smiled.

  He felt like crying.

  Everything would be so much better if he were alive.

  “I—I have to go,” Adam said. “Ride around or something.”

  “I’ll hold on to the camera for you,” Ripley volunteered.

  Lianna gave him a suspicious glance. “I will. Don’t worry, Adam. I’ll kill him if he touches it.”

  “No, thanks.” Adam dropped the camera into the backpack.

  “Really, it’s no problem,” Lianna said. “I can give it back to you tonight.”

  Ripley’s face fell. “Tonight? You two have plans?”

  Adam bolted before another argument could start.

  That evening, Adam barely touched his dinner.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Mrs. Sarno asked.

  “Fine,” Adam lied.

  “Something’s wrong if you’re leaving food on the plate,” his dad said with a concerned smile.

  Adam pushed around his mashed potatoes with a fork. “When Edgar died, how did his parents take it?”

  Mr. and Mrs. Sarno exchanged a glance.

  “They were devastated, naturally,” Mr. Sarno replied. “Why?”

  “That must be the worst thing—losing your child,” Adam said. “You’d probably give up everything in the world to get him back, wouldn’t you?”

  “Get him back?” Adam’s dad said warily.

  “I mean, what if I died? And what if someone told you it was possible to change the past? To go back and prevent that death from happening—”

  “Adam, please,” Mrs. Sarno interrupted.

  “Just tell me! What if all that happened, Mom? And even though logically it made no sense, even though you might be risking your life if you followed through, you believed—you really believed—this crazy idea had a chance. Would you do it?”

  “Frankly, Adam, I couldn’t allow myself to imagine it,” Mrs. Sarno said. “Can we change the subject?”

  “Then pretend you’re Mrs. Hall. Would you?”

  Mrs. Sarno looked uncomfortably at her husband. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose in her situation, hypothetically, I would.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Mr. Sarno said. “As painful as it would seem. You can never bring back what you’ve lost. It’s the natural order of things.”

  Adam nodded.

  His heart told him his mom was right.