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The "Do Over" Challenge
By:
David Alan Jones
If the multifaceted social dynamics of a middle school lunchroom could be compared to something so mundane as a mere spiral galaxy, then Alyson Reynolds’s table would be its center. Bright stars of the gel-haired, denim-wearing, pubescent variety gravitated into her orbit, basking in rays of popularity. Outside that circle, moving away towards colder, darker places, evidence of the heat death of the universe could be observed, as Krelboynes moved like lesser planetoids bobbing and floating in eddies of unknown, unseen, and unremarked dark matter.
But sometimes, often when least expected, a comet will streak out of the void, pulled by peculiar magnetism, drawn forth on a collision course for the bright center. Most of these are stillborn charges, nothing more than passing streaks that barrel forward only to be diverted with a look or a laugh.
Alyson was first to spot the oncoming geek. He was her age she knew because they shared a class – English, maybe, she couldn’t recall – but he was short and thin and looked like a sixth grader. He wore brown corduroy pants, a green T-shirt with the picture of a sword-waving elf and the word, “Link” written across the top, and a pair of checkered Vans.
“Oh my God,” said Stacey. “Is that boy coming over here?”
Jennifer looked disgusted. “Looks that way.”
“Let’s throw fries at him,” said Alyson and all the girls laughed.
“What’s his name?” asked Judy.
Alyson shrugged.
“Donnie Piker,” said Jennifer. They all gave her the look and she said, “What? He’s been in our same grade since kindergarten.”
“Yeah, but none of us knows his freaking name,” said Stacey and they laughed again, but then quieted as Donnie stopped at their table.
A hush fell. Everyone was watching. Mostly they were waiting for the laughter to start.
“Hi, Alyson,” said Donnie Piker. He was shaking noticeably and this made Stacey snort, which got all the girls going until they shushed each other to silence.
Donnie blushed so red his pimples all but disappeared.
“Ahhm, yes?” said Alyson, contempt in her voice.
He looked down at his much-abused shoes, seeming to search for words. Finally, he said, “I was – ahh, wondering if you had a date for the winter ball?”
Jennifer guffawed and slapped the table.
“Holy shit, he’s going to ask her out,” said Stacey.
“Wait,” said Alyson, raising a hand, “let me save you some –“
Something boomed in her head like crunching ice cubes, only the (sound? was it a sound?) didn’t radiate along her jaw. It was in her head – in her mind, like thunder caught in her cranium. Her eyes widened as she felt something large and uncomfortably familiar ease into her consciousness – ease into her head!
Alyson lowered her hand. She didn’t mean to lower her hand, it just happened. And she smiled. Oh, God, why was she smiling at Donnie “Geek-o’-the-World” Piker?
“Let me save you some time, Donnie,” she heard herself say. “I would love to go to the winter ball with you. And I know you don’t have a car yet, so would it be alright if my mom drives us?”
Donnie gapped at her, his eyes bulging in astonishment.
“Yeah,” he said, and then with more enthusiasm. “Yeah, that would be perfect.”
“Wear your black suit,” said Alyson. “You always looked best in black.”
“Ahh, okay,” said Donnie. He shuffled back a few steps and then ran from the lunchroom, hitting the swinging doors at speed.
Some part of Alyson that was not Alyson knew he was going to hurl. He would tell her later, after the dance, and they would laugh.
“Have you lost your mind?” asked Stacey her voice flat. She looked scandalized, but at the same time there was a keen, hungry glint in her eyes. She had been Alyson’s best friend since second grade and their social positions had been well set even back then. This little fiasco might just change that dynamic.
“I’ve got to go powder my nose,” said Alyson, heading for the swing door Donnie had exited.
“Powder your nose? What is this, England?”
Alyson ignored that and all the staring onlookers.
Inside her head, fourteen-year-old Alyson screamed and struggled for control, but nothing she did could make her body listen. She was like a bus passenger watching the scenery whiz by. And the scenery as not pleasant.
She entered the nearest girls restroom, checked to make certain it was empty – at least that’s what she thought the phantom running her body was doing – and then leaned her hands on one of the sinks to stare into a mirror.
Her mouth said, “Hello there, Alyson.”
She felt an invisible hand loosen inside and suddenly she could control her tongue.
“Who are you? What’s going on? Am I possessed?”
Her head shook. “No, you are not possessed – well not by a demon or something that doesn’t belong. So far as I know it’s impossible for a consciousness other than the original to take control of your body.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“It means, my dear, that I am you, though I must admit I’m a very different you and thank God and the baby Jesus for that.”
Alyson gapped at herself.
“I am you about twenty years from now. My name is Alyson Reynolds Piker and I am married to one of the richest, most famous, smartest men in the world.”
“I marry that –”
“Watch your mouth. You have no idea what a man that little boy grows to be. In fact, I wouldn’t be here, correcting your stupidity, if it wasn’t for one of the toys his brilliant mind cooks up in about ten years. Self-stream time travel. You can enter your own consciousness at any point along your lifeline. He decided never to release it to the public – to dangerous he says and I agree, but we use it now and again when necessary. Don calls it Hindsight.”
The End