Page 24 of The Backtrack
Sam nodded but didn’t look up to catch his eye. She hadn’t opened up to anyone about this ever. She was surprised that all it’d taken was a cup of ice cream, but then again, there had been extra gummy bears.
“My mom, on the other hand, is having a barbecue tomorrow and told me it was rude that I hadn’t invited you and Pearl.”
A small smile crept across Sam’s face. The Rocha family was notorious for their elaborate barbecues. “So you’re still not going to extend the invite, huh?”
“Not unless you agree to wear your old Doc Martens and do a karaoke duet of a Paramore song with me, no.” He leaned back into his palms, and the muscles in his biceps popped under the weight of him. She couldn’t help but stare for a beat too long; she was only human, after all.
“Unfortunately for you, I love to crash parties. What time?”
“Two.” Damon wiped his hands across his jeans and pushed himself up from the floor. Sam was tall, but she looked up at Damon and felt infinitely small compared to his broad shoulders and wide stance. The darker circles under his eyes told her he was tired, though from work or something else, she wasn’t sure. “I should get back. Those beers don’t pour themselves.”
“So noble, your job.”
“The Lord turned water into wine, but someone had to make the beer.” He hesitated, and they stayed locked on each other, not saying a word.
Damon shook his head, as if to unlock himself from her. He stopped at the door frame, then turned slightly. “Don’t throw out any of my mix CDs. Those are going to be collector’s items someday.”
“I’d never,” she said with a tight smile, and he walked out the door.
Oh, if only he knew all of the trouble one of those CDs in particular was causing.
Sam nibbled her bottom lip. Here she was, in her childhood bedroom, and she’d just watched the man of her visions walk out the door. He was in the past, but he was also so very present.
She went to put the album back in the drawer, when she spotted something shiny in the jewelry dish next to the pile of albums on her desk. She picked it up and inspected the lone earring. Her mom’s earring. This was the one she’d lost the pair to.
She swallowed down the realization that there was one other way to confirm that what was happening was real. Her clarinet case was somewhere in this room. She hadn’t known where her earring had vanished to all those years ago—she’d been too caught up in the moment—until she watched Damon pick it up and tuck it into her clarinet case. If she found the earring still there, she’d know that what she saw was not a hallucination.
She got on her hands and knees and looked under the bed. There was the small walk-in closet, and she opened the door and pulled the metal chain that turned on the overhead bulb. Within a few seconds, she saw the case. She easily pulled it down, covered in dust as well as band stickers. In her vision, he’d tucked an earring into the front pocket. She unzipped the pocket and reached in, sure she’d find nothing.
But as her fingers slid back out, the tip of her index finger snagged on something sharp. Her eyes widened as she felt around the inside and fingered the unmistakable round stone earring and sharp backing. She pulled it out and pinched the earring between her index finger and thumb, so hard that it hurt.
9
This time, putting the headphones on was easy. The earring was like a sign that she needed to listen to more songs if she had any chance of understanding what was happening. Because as far as Sam could tell, she was being given the chance to see the answer to her biggest what-if about how her life could’ve been if only she’d kissed Damon that night.
Why this was happening was another mystery entirely. What Sam knew was that she had a magic CD player that transported her to an alternate version of the past, and each vision lasted the length of the song that played. Shortly after the song started, so did the vision, and when it ended, she was back to reality.
So she decided to treat this one differently. She knew what she was getting into, roughly, and needed to take in as much as she could before the song ended. She’d already listened to three out of the thirteen songs, so she’d make the most of the ten left.
She hit Play and closed her eyes as the quick strumming of The Offspring’s “Want You Bad” began. The song was, as the title suggested, about a guy whoreallywants the person he’s obsessing over.
Oh, sweet sassy hormones, Sam thought as the rush of air swept in along with a big drop. But she didn’t have time to revel in the weightlessness, because as soon as she landed in her new destination, she’d only have the time remaining on the player. She opened her eyes and glanced down—three minutes and five seconds left.
When she looked up, there was vinyl flooring beneath her feet, a stadium bench under her, and the squeak of rubber soles hitting the ground. She was in the gymnasium of her high school, and when she turned around, there was Alt-Sam hunched over a papier-mâché garland.
“Valentine’s Day is less than a week away.”
Sam snapped back to the front where Mr. Meyer, the PE coach, stood with a clipboard. He walked toward the group as he said, “How’s my decoration committee doing?”
Ah, yes, Sam remembered volunteering for the Spirit Committee—basically a group of students who did free decor labor to celebrate holidays. She was a straight-A student, but thought more extracurriculars would improve her chances of a scholarship to flight school. The fact that it was only a few weeks of commitment sweetened the deal.
“Jeremy, put the iPod away, please.” Mr. Meyer nodded to a brick of an iPod sitting in a kid’s lap. Jeremy took off his headphones, and Sam heard “Want You Bad” playing through them before he turned the iPod off and tucked it into his backpack.
“We could use some snacks,” a slight girl with bronze gladiator sandals and a matching headband chirped back.
Mr. Meyer tapped his foot. “Copy that. Requests?”
A small chorus of answers came back, “Famous Amos!”
