Page 25 of Woke Up Like This
I stare at her, blank-faced. I’ve never seen this woman in my life. “Ivory?”
“Ivory Eckhart? You’re her school counselor.”
I freeze entirely. A school counselor? For real?
When I don’t confirm nor deny, she plows forth, eyes darting to my bare feet. “It looks like you’re a bit busy, but I wanted to say how much Ivory has benefited from your help with her college applications.”
I’m going insane. Either that, or this is some Captain America shit. I went to sleep, somehow got lodged and preserved in the ice, and woke up a billion years later, only I’m not a mega-ripped supersoldier.
Then again, if this woman is telling the truth, I’ve achieved even more. I’m a school counselor. A good one, apparently.
I’m not entirely sure how to respond, given I have no idea who this Ivory person is, so I open my mouth as wide as possible, force a smile, and nod.
My Joker smile must scare her, because she takes a step back. “Oh, I hope you and J. T. have the best wedding day,” she says before heading down the aisle.
J. T.?
I blink. If falling off a ladder, hitting my head, and waking up thirteen years in the future isn’t traumatic enough, now I’m gettingMARRIED? To Renner?
The photos of us plastered around the house cycle through my mind like a slideshow.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I’m marrying Joshua Taylor Renner.
I don’t know how this happened. But one thing is certain: I am officially in the pits of hell.
ELEVEN
This is a nightmare. I’m sure of it. There’s no way I time traveled. That’s absurd.
If this truly is a nightmare, I should be able to wake up. Delighted at the prospect, I slap myself hard across the cheek as I book it out of the pharmacy.Ouch.Maybe a measly slap won’t suffice.
Time for more drastic measures. I pedal furiously into a residential area and hurl myself off my bike (into a bush to cushion my fall). A man with gardening shears looks down on me. He’s not overly pleased. I briefly entertain diving in front of an oncoming vehicle. But wouldn’t that be suicide? What if I’mnotdreaming?
Resigned—and a bit bruised—I decide that the only logical step is to return to the house for more information. Renner is still there, man-splaying on the front porch, hair disheveled, unsure which way it wants to flop.
“You have a branch in your hair,” he says, voice deep and gravelly—like a thirty-year-old’s ...
I set my bike in the driveway so I can fish the branch out. “Why are you still here?”
“I went home.” There’s a weird look on his face that tells me there’s more to the story.
“And?” I already know what he’s going to say, but I need to hear it.
“It’s 2037,” he tells me, like he’s already accepted this strange fact.
“So I’ve heard.” I finally let out a deep exhale. I park myself on the step next to him and stare out at the street. Another one of those fancy cars drives by. I guess that’s why everyone has one. We’re in the future. “And we’re ... getting married next week.” I hold up my ring finger.
“Yeah. My mom told me.” He runs both hands down either side of his face.
“You saw your parents?”
“I saw my mom,” he says definitively, jaw ticking with unease.
A lump forms in my throat at his expression. “Your dad ... wasn’t home?”
His eyes flick to his shoes. “They’re divorced.”
