Page 32 of Woke Up Like This
“We’re at work. We have to stay professional,” I grumble, walking ahead.
“Who was that? And why does she have a hedgehog and treat it like her child?”
“I don’t even want to know. And had we gone straight to the gym like we planned, we wouldn’t have had to deal with it,” I hiss.
He lets out a heavy sigh, fixing me with a tormented expression when we reach the gym. “You’re not blaming me for this.”
“Of course I am,” I whisper.
The gym is quiet, just as it was earlier this morning, before I fell off the ladder—thirteen years ago. Only, instead of Under the Sea decor, it’s decked out like Mardi Gras. There’s a big deck of cards illuminated on the far wall, as well as tables with royal-purple linens and large feather centerpieces filled with silver beaded necklaces. There are even gold sheets of fabric draped from the ceiling.
“I can’t believeweare supposed to chaperone this thing tomorrow. We didn’t even get to go to our own prom,” I say.
“Well, with any luck, we won’t have to chaperone. I’m gonna fetch the ladder,” he says and heads for the storage room.
Just as he turns the knob, we hear voices approaching, followed by the squeak of the door. A group of bright-eyed students funnels in, one after another.
My first thought is to dive behind Renner and hide.
“Hi, Mr.Renner.” A girl in a yellow cardigan greets him cheerfully, the glimmer in her eyes fading when she pans to me. “Ms.Wu.”
“See? Dungeon teacher,” Renner whispers before turning back to the student. “Oh, hi. What are you doing in here?” he asks, his voice comically low. He sounds like a Marvel villain.
“Decorating for prom,” Yellow Cardigan Girl says with perky confidence. I’d bet money she’s student council president.
“Right. Um, well, carry on.” Renner dips his chin and pulls me into the hallway.
“Where are we going?” I groan, clasping a hand on the doorframe. I can envision soaring off that ladder, out of this nightmare and back to my seventeen-year-old self. “We’re so close.”
“We can’t do this with a bunch of people around,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’ll have to come back after hours.”
He has a point. We certainly don’t need witnesses to our ridiculous attempt at time travel. “Fine.”
“I’m hungry. Wanna grab breakfast at the breakfast club?” he asks casually.
I use my last morsel of strength to pull myself upright, arrowing my wrath in his direction. “Seriously? That food is for kids in need. And how can you think about food at a time like this? We’re stuck here. In the future.”
For some reason, I was convinced our plan would work. I’m not sure I could eat until we’re back to normal.
“Wearein need. And we haven’t eaten all morning. I’m starved.”
“Correction, I didn’t eat. You ate the last piece of bread.” I leave out the fact that he got toast crumbs all over the counter and just left them there. I’ll bank that grievance for another time.
“That hardly counts as a balanced breakfast. I won’t make it the rest of the day on toast,” he says.
“Get something from the vending machine,” I snap, brushing the dirt off my argyle tights.
He flashes me a disappointed look, then pulls his phone from the pocket of his chinos. “Just got a text from Ollie.”
“Ollie? What does it say?” I ask, leaning in.
“He’s asking what time we’re coming for our party tonight.”
“Shoot. The epic bachelor/bachelorette.” I groan, on the brink of panic. “No, no, no. We can’t go. We’re coming right back here after work today and returning to 2024.”
“Well, yeah, obviously. But if that doesn’t work, what then?” He lowers his voice as a couple more students walk toward the gym, arms laden with Mardi Gras decor.
Renner kindly holds the door for them, and I run both hands down my cheeks. Panic is setting in. “We—we keep trying. Until it works.”
