And very alone.
As if right on cue, a familiar face comes walking up our driveway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “Wayfare,” Jensen says with a smile. “Glad you brought back the specs. Lookin’ good.”
When he climbs the porch steps, I notice a fresh bruise on his cheekbone under his left eye. “Whoa. What happened to you?” I scoot over so he can sit beside me. My hands are cold and fisted in the pockets of my parka.
“Heh. Well. I kinda got in a fight with Robbie after school.”
“You didn’t.”
He nods with a guilty grin. “Totally did. I asked him what he said to you on the track.” He shakes his head. “It was low. Even for him. I don’t know what happened. I’ve never been in a real fight before. I just got really mad and the next thing I knew, I took a swing.”
“You hit him?”
He lets out a laugh. “I wish. He rolled out of the way. But he got me pretty good.” He rubs the side of his face, wincing a bit.
I give him a disapproving look. “I thought you said we just had to ‘ignore them.’”
“Yeah, well.” He kicks his long legs out and crosses his ankles. “Maybe next time I’ll take my own advice.”
We sit there, staring at our shoes, rocking the porch swing with our feet. Heel, toe, heel, toe.
“So,” he says after a while. “Did you talk to your boyfriend?”
I smile to myself. “Yeah, actually. I did.” It feels weird referring to Blue as my boyfriend. Shouldn’t that title be reserved for someone you meet in the present time period? Someone you go on dates with?
“And?” Jensen says.
“And you were right. It was a big misunderstanding.”
“Told ya.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe next time I’ll take your advice.” He bumps his shoulder into mine and we laugh. “So, can you tell all the jerks at school that I have a boyfriend? And that you and I are just friends? Maybe that’ll get the guys off my back and the girls won’t hate me so much.”
“What? They don’t hate you.”
“Yes they do.”
“Why would they hate you?”
“Um, maybe because you and I are friends now?” I swear, he can be so oblivious sometimes.
“We’ve always been friends.”
“OK, well, they hate me now that you’ve made our friendship public.”
“That’s a ridiculous reason to hate someone.”
“Jensen, if you haven’t figured out by now that most girls are shallow, shallow creatures, then there’s no hope for you. They hate other girls for far less than that. Trust me.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Tell me about it.”
We rock the swing. Stare at our shoes. I push my fake glasses up the bridge of my nose.
“So when do I get to meet this guy?” he says.
“Someday. Maybe.”
“You bringing him to prom?”
I snort a laugh. I try to picture Blue and I doing something as mundane as prom. Two time traveling teens renting a limo and wearing corsages. “No. We’re sort of… bigger than prom.”
“Ah. College guy, eh?”
“Something like that.”
The timer goes off. I leap to my feet and head for the door. “I gotta run inside. You want to come in?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I pull the two baking sheets full of molasses cookies from the oven. They’re rich, golden brown and smell amazing. I set them on the kitchen island and hand Jensen a spatula. We both start easing the cookies off the baking sheets and onto a cooling rack.
Audrey comes in carrying Afton in her arms, wearing a pair of baggy, plaid pajama pants. “I thought I smelled cookies.” Her eyes are heavy, and she has that just-woken-up look. Her stocking cap is askew. One pro of being totally bald? No more bed head.
She freezes when she sees Jensen, and her heavy, tired eyes become big and bright. I can’t help but stifle a laugh. I’ve never invited a friend over to the house, let alone a boy. Let alone Jensen Peters.
“Jensen?” I say. “This is my sister.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says with a kind smile. “Audrey, right?” He sticks out his hand. She shifts Afton over to one arm and shakes his hand, looking even more meek than usual. I like it that he remembers her name.
She slides onto one of the barstools at the side of the island and cuddles Afton to her chest. She’s not usually shy, but Jensen’s presence makes her clam up.
“What’s your cat’s name?” Jensen asks her.
“Afton.”
“Cool name. That’s a river in Scotland, right?”
Audrey and I both look up, eyebrows raised. “How did you know that?” she asks.
“Well,” he says with a shrug, easing a few more cookies onto the cooling rack, “this is going to sound stupid and totally lame, but there’s this Scottish guy who wrote a poem about it. It’s one of my favorites.”
“It’s one of mine, too,” Audrey says, perking up.
“It is?” When she nods, he says, “Well, maybe it’s not so lame then.”
“Did Alex tell you I’m going to Scotland in the spring?”
“What? No. That’s awesome.” He gives me a look like he can’t believe I didn’t tell him.
Audrey beams. “I’ve been wanting to go for so long. And someone made a donation to my foundation so I can go on the trip. Isn’t that cool? The whole family’s going.”
“Alex too?” he asks.
“Yep,” she says. “There’s no way I’d go without her. When we make that final descent, I want her right by my side.”
Her words hit home deeper than she could have known. I walk over to her, squeeze her shoulders, and kiss the top of her stocking cap. “You know I’ll be there. Every step of the way.”
I may have ruined history, the entire world, and who knows how many lives with the Variant timeline I created, but at least I can be proud of what I did for Audrey.
At least I did one thing right.
When Gran gets back, she’s just as startled as Audrey to see Jensen helping us with the cookies. And he’s just as kind and talkative to her as he is with Audrey. By the time the whole family gets home, he’s been invited to stay for dinner four times. He calls his parents and gets permission to stay.
Over dinner, he makes everyone laugh. He talks to Dad about the Mustang, to Mom about her job at AIDA, to Pops about the Orioles, to Gran about her delicious cookies, to Claire about school, and to Audrey about Scotland. He even sneaks Afton a bit of his fish stick under the table. No one asks about the shiny bruise under his eye, not even Claire, and for that I’m thankful. I’m sure they’ll quiz me about it after he leaves, which I’m already dreading. They keep shooting me knowing looks across the macaroni and cheese. Pops keeps waggling his bushy gray eyebrows at me. I just try to ignore them and enjoy the show while it lasts.
Throughout it all, I can’t help but think, So this is what it’s like to have a friend in Base Life.
After dinner, I walk Jensen out onto the porch. He swings the baggie of molasses cookies Gran gave him at his side.
“Guess I better go home and explain this thing to the parents.” He points at his black eye. “And I guess you better go inside and explain it to yours, too.” He tosses me a grin, then jogs down the steps. “See ya tomorrow, Wayfare.”
I guess he’s not super oblivious all the time.
As I watch him melt into the night, past pools of light from street lamps, Mom leans against the doorframe behind me. The great shadow of disappointment is nowhere to be found tonight.
“Do you know how proud I am of you?” she says.
“For what?” I squeeze into the doorframe beside her, and she wraps an arm around my waist.
“You’re making friends. Doing better in school.” She smooths my hair back and gives me a peck on the forehead. “I like seeing you happy.”