Page 44 of The Backtrack
Adult Sam blinked. “Where’s Damon?” There was a minute-thirty left on the song. She had to make sure he was okay.
Sam jumped off the bed and looked around the room for evidence of where Damon might be. She glanced at the desk—two tickets to the school carnival and an essay with a C+ at the top of the page.
“You got a C on this paper?” Sam tried to pick the paper up, but couldn’t. “I loved French. I never got a C in my life.”
But her line of thought was interrupted by a tapping at the window. Both Sams turned to see Damon gently rapping a knuckle against the glass. “Oh, thank God,” Sam said. “Sorry, Lyft driver, wherever you are.”
Alt-Sam grinned as she clenched the towel in one hand and unlocked the window with her other. Damon slid the window up and climbed in and over the desk, knocking off a cup of gel pens in the process.
“Be careful, Pearl will kill me if you break that lava lamp and it spills everywhere!” Alt-Sam said, almost giddy.
“Well, if she tells my parents I was here, my mom will kill me.” But Damon, for his part, seemed energized by this fact, too.
Sam frowned. So they were sneaking around now? That seemed bad, even if it ignited something in their teen hormones.
“How’s the foot?” Damon closed the window behind him.
“Boot-iful.” Alt-Sam touched a finger to her temple. “But the double vision is still there.”
“So, you’re seeing two of me?” Damon tried to joke.
“Unfortunately, just one.” Alt-Sam gave him a weak smile. “Usually hits first thing in the morning.”
Damon reached for her hand and gently said, “Don’t stress.”
Alt-Sam pulled away and tugged at her wet hair. “If it doesn’t go away, I can’t go to flight school. They don’t take people with serious vision issues.”
“It’ll go away,” he insisted.
Alt-Sam softened as she reached up, grabbed Damon’s face and kissed him. So effortless and natural, unlike the face falling Adult Sam had done.
“Ow,” Damon said with a wince.
“Oh, no, still hurting?” Alt-Sam turned his head and drew a line along a Band-Aid across Damon’s eyebrow.
“The stitches come out next week.”
“Should I kiss it and make it all better?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, licking his lips. “I had plans to do the kissing tonight.” He lifted her up, put her on the bed and scratched his fingers down her thighs.
“Oh, okay!” Sam turned away and shielded her eyes. “I do not need to see this!”
Sam was relieved she and Damon were safe, but what did it mean if they were sneaking around? And Alt-Sam was having trouble with her vision? That was a serious problem. She’d have to analyze what was happening.
Her mind spun through the facts:Sneaking around. Injured, but in love. Or lust? First ever C on an assignment.The song was nearing the end, and Sam waited for the inevitable pull back to reality.
17
Sam was confused, honestly, about how she was supposed to interpret this latest vision. The playlist had been showing her how wonderful being with Damon was—and in some ways, Alt-Samstillseemed happy. But what about the car crash, her double vision and the C in a class she’d adored?
Her plan had been to listen to one song, but as the minutes passed by in the still quiet house, she realized that she could roll right into the next—no breaks, just Play. She wanted to make sure Sam’s eyesight improved, and there was only one way to find out.
“Let’s do this,” Sam said to herself as “Read My Mind” by The Killers came through with its subtle synth opener. Damon and Sam had analyzed this song endlessly. It was both sad and upbeat, about longing for connection but also the desire for change. They’d agreed—one of the rare songs where their opinions matched—that this was an emotional and beautifully written piece of music, ultimately tapping into how hard being vulnerable and opening up to another person can be.
Sam didn’t have a lot of time to rehash the lyrics, though, because when she landed, her eyes flew open at the intense bright light. She shielded her eyes with her hand as she realized that she was outside lying across two white plastic folding chairs.
Next to her was a guy with huge diamond earrings, a popped collar and bleached-blond hair tucked into a maroon cap with a tassel. His overly shiny aquamarine robe tipped her off to the fact that this was a high school graduation—herhigh school graduation. The ceremony hadn’t started yet, but looked like it was about to. The high school a cappella group sang a version of “Read My Mind” on the outdoor stage, which was already filled with teachers in formal wear, and a podium waited for someone to step up and take the mic.
