I click on her photo.
The most recent thing she wrote was back in February.
Kellan Steiner
Lindsay’s flying to her dad’s this weekend. Her first
solo plane trip!
February 23 at 2:09pm · Like · Comment
Catrina McBrideI know you’ll miss her, but
enjoy your time off. Single mamas need that!
February 27 at 6:53pm · Like
Fifteen years from now, Kellan is a single mother with a fourteen-year-old daughter . That means—
There’s a loud knock at my door. I back-click until I return to my page.
Josh grins as he strolls in. “That was called knocking . And not that it’s any of your business, but you’ll be happy to know I’m wearing boxers now.”
I smile weakly. All I can think about is whether to tell Josh about Kellan. I should, but I don’t want to create any more ripples that could ruin either one of our futures.
Josh leans over my shoulder and looks at the screen. “How are things this morning?”
“Now, or in fifteen years?”
“Fifteen years,” he says. “How are the Storms?”
“We’re fine,” I say.
Josh points to the screen. “Look! I’m talking to your dad! And now I have twins again?”
I get out of my chair. “You can click over to your page if you want. I have to finish getting ready for school.”
Josh sits at my computer, and I walk into my mom’s room. I close the door and sink onto the foot of her bed. If Lindsay is fourteen, and Facebook is fifteen years from now, then Kellan must become pregnant in the next few months .
Unless she already is.
I JUMP OUT OF EMMA’S CHAIR and slide open her window. A van drives up the street, the high-pitched drone of its engine growing louder until it eventually shifts gears. At Wagner Park, someone tosses a glass bottle into a garbage bin. It clanks, but doesn’t shatter.
Perfect! If my home phone rings, I shouldn’t have trouble hearing it.
I return to Emma’s computer and look again at the most important bit of information.
Married toSydney Templeton
I click where it says Photos. Emma and I need to leave for school soon, so rather than reading through dozens of short statements that hardly make sense, I want to see what my future looks like.
The first square is labeled:
Our New Casa
12 photos
When I open the album, twelve new squares slowly load. The first one is only half filled-in, but I already love what it shows. The house is literally on the shore of Crown Lake. According to Mom and Dad, that’s the most expensive location in town. The rest of the photo appears, revealing a wraparound porch leading to a long wooden dock. Either Sydney inherited a fortune, or my graphic design business is booming!
In the second picture, I’m laying on a hammock with identical red-headed boys. I don’t think we have twins anywhere in my family, but for Sydney and me to have twins in two of my futures is a bizarre coincidence.
In the next picture I’m standing in front of the house waving at the camera. My other arm is around… is that David? I click to enlarge the photo.
David is standing with one arm around me and his other arm around a guy with short brown hair and sunglasses. We’re all smiling. Beneath the picture, it says:
In this photo:Josh Templeton, Dave Templeton,
Phillip Connor
So he goes by Dave in the future. Sorry, bro, but I’m still calling you David. When I scroll the arrow over his name, it turns into a hand. I glance at the door. Emma’s still not back. Anyway, she wouldn’t care if I checked on David. He’s family.
David’s page says he now lives in Bellingham, Washington, and works as a computer engineer.
Then I notice something else.
In a relationship withPhillip Connor
Okay, that’s… um… I don’t…
Emma walks in and plops on her bed. “Anything interesting?”
“Nope!”
I click the red X in the corner. Facebook disappears, and AOL says, “ Goodbye !”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. I’m a little shaken by what I just saw. “Do you want me to sign back on?”
Emma tilts her head and smirks at me. “Tell me truthfully, did you change your underwear because I made fun of you?”
“No,” I say. But the answer is yes. Emma walking in on me was embarrassing enough. But there’s no telling when a girl I actually have a chance with might get a glimpse of my underwear. I don’t want her first thought to be Haven’t you heard of boxers?
After Emma left my house, I took a shower and swiped some boxers from my dad’s drawer. They were in an unopened pack, and they’re a little loose, but they work. I’m planning to buy a few pairs of my own after school.
“Remember, I can tell when you’re lying,” Emma says. “And if you did that for Sydney’s sake, it’s kind of sad. Because if you think about it, you don’t even know her.”
“I don’t know her yet ,” I say. “But it’s going to happen.”
“Oh, really? Did she call you last night?”
That is the question I was hoping to avoid.
“Because if she didn’t,” Emma continues, “maybe she’s having second thoughts.”
I don’t say anything. What if Emma’s right? Sydney and I really don’t know each other. Maybe she noticed me in Peer Issues sooner than she was supposed to, and now everything’s rippling in ways that will push us apart.
Emma leans over my shoulder and signs back on to AOL.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting her to call me right away.”
Before I came over, I carried my phone into the bathroom and plugged it into the jack near the medicine cabinet. I opened the bathroom window and set the phone on the sill. If it rings, I should be able to hear it from Emma’s bedroom. Then I took the cordless phone from my parents’ room and placed it by the front door. That way I can leave Emma’s house, sprint across our yards, and answer the cordless before Sydney hangs up.
“You’re right,” Emma says. “She wouldn’t call you right away. She’s going to play hard to get.”
“Do you think so?” I ask.
“Those are the rules,” Emma says.
Emma and Kellan spend hours talking about relationships and taking quizzes in magazines. Whenever I contribute my two cents, they just laugh and call me clueless.
Emma scrolls through some comments on her Facebook page, reading each one carefully.
“It’s hard to tell,” she says, “but I think Kevin Storm may be a firefighter. Or a doctor.”
Even if Sydney plays hard to get, she’ll call me eventually. Otherwise, why would she ask for my number? I hate that Emma’s trying to put doubts in my mind.
“Good for you,” I say. “So he’s better than Jordan Jones. Did you find anything else on there?”
Emma stares at the screen. I shouldn’t have asked that question when I wouldn’t answer it honestly myself. I told her I didn’t find anything interesting, but my brother ends up in a relationship with someone named Phillip!
“Nothing new,” Emma says. “But I have been thinking about your list, the one with people you want to look up. I’m not sure if—”
I remove the folded-up piece of paper from my backpack. Emma grabs it and turns it around, then starts reading through the names. I want to say we should crumple up the list and not check on anyone after all. If what I saw about David is true, then what else will we find that people may not want us to know?
“ Eww !” Emma shoves the paper back at me. “Why did you put Kyle Simpson on there?”
I laugh. “What are you talking about? You dated the guy.”
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