Джей Эшер: The Future of Us

I finish my pizza and head to the bathroom. Since the downstairs bathroom is out of commission, I have to cut through my mom and Martin’s room every time I need to pee. As I look in the mirror, I think about Emma Nelson Jones and her highlights.

I’ve always liked my hair color, especially in the summer when I spritz it with Sun-In and lay out in the backyard. But maybe someday I’ll contemplate highlights, too.

Maybe someday I am.

I hurry to my computer and jiggle the mouse. When I dial into AOL, it’s just the regular homepage. But then I look in the “Favorite Places” box, where I know Kellan stores links to all the webpages she likes.

And there it is. Facebook. When I click on the word, that box appears asking for my email and password, which I quickly enter.

Joy Renault

Watching the Harmony Alley Carjackers for the first

time since college. Squee!!!

17 hours ago · Like · Comment

Gordon Anderson

I feel silly ordering apple juice as an adult, like I

should be pronouncing it “appa doos.”

4 hours ago · Like ·Comment

Doug FleissIt always reminds me of baby

breath.

2 hours ago · Like

In the top corner, next to where it says “Emma Nelson Jones,” there’s a different photo than last time. When I click her name, a page appears with a larger version of the same photo. She looks glamorous in a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses.

Below the photo, I click on a tab labeled “Info.”

High SchoolLake Forest High School Class of 1997

1997? That’s when I’m going to graduate. That’s next year!

I force my eyes away from the graduating class that hasn’t happened yet and scroll down. Emma Nelson Jones has created lists of her favorite movies, music, and books.

MoviesAmerican Beauty, Titanic, Toy Story 3

I haven’t heard of the first two movies, though I’m happy to see Toy Story apparently has two sequels, but it’s the books section that really jumps out at me.

BooksTuck Everlasting, Harry Potter, The Help

I don’t know what Harry Potter or The Help are, but Josh gave me Tuck Everlasting for my eleventh birthday. I still remember reading the scene where Tuck rows Winnie across the lake. The boat gets stuck in a tangle of roots and Tuck explains how the water rushing by is like time flowing on without them. Reading those words made me feel deep and philosophical.

I click back to the page where Emma Nelson Jones talked about wanting to highlight her hair, but I can’t find anything about that now. It still says she’s married to Jordan Jones Jr. but there’s no photo of him with the fish. That’s odd. How did everything I saw before change like that?

Emma Nelson Jones

Thursday, May 19 is a day that will go down in

history. The question is, in a good way or a bad way?

I’ll think about that as I make dinner.

2 hours ago · Like · Comment

Today is May 19! So that means this is all happening right now. But today isn’t Thursday. It’s Sunday .

Three people have responded to Emma, asking what she’s cooking. She’s replied with, strangely enough, one of my favorite meals.

Emma Nelson JonesMac and cheese.

Desperately need comfort food.

about an hour ago · Like

A few more people have written, saying how much they love comfort food. And then, at the bottom, Emma wrote something just twelve minutes ago. As I read it, my arms prickle with goose bumps.

MY PARENTS GOT HOME LATE, so it’s scrambled-eggs-with-hot-dog night in the Templeton home. Any other night I’d be loving it, but now I’m a little distracted. I tried calling Emma before we sat down to eat, but her line was busy.

“You seem quiet,” Dad says. He tilts the frying pan toward my plate and slides on more hot dog wedges.

The telephone rings. As Dad goes down the hall to answer it, I push around the eggs with my fork. The website on Emma’s computer doesn’t make any sense. It has to be a prank, but if it is, I don’t get it. If I were going to make a fake future for someone, I’d put in outrageous stuff, like they’re going to win the lottery or own a castle in Scotland. Why go to all that trouble for hair coloring and fishing trips?

Dad walks back to the table. “It was Emma. I told her you’d call her back after dinner.”

“How is Emma?” Mom asks me. “Did she want that America Online CD?”

“CD-ROM,” I say, shoveling some hot dog into my mouth to avoid the rest of her question.

“Is Sheila going to let her use AOL?” Mom asks.

I nod and fork in more hot dog. Why did Emma call? She knows my parents hate getting phone calls during dinner. Did she find an inconsistency, proving the website is a prank? Or maybe she figured out who did it!

“Things change so fast when you’re a teenager,” Dad says, spooning salsa onto his eggs. “You and Emma used to be so close. Last summer Mom and I started to worry that you needed to hang around with other people, too.”

“I hang out with Tyson,” I say.

“Other girls,” Dad says.

“At least we know Emma,” Mom says. She looks at Dad and laughs. “Remember how David was always going to that girl Jessica’s house after school, but they never came over here? We finally insisted they study here, and look what happened with that .”

“The next day,” Dad says, “he broke up with her.”

David is my older brother. My parents assumed he’d go to school at Hemlock State, where they’re both sociology professors. Instead he moved to Seattle for college, more than two thousand miles from here. I honestly wonder if he chose Washington State to keep Mom and Dad from probing into his life so much. He even stays there during the summer to do internships. I had to fly out over spring break to spend time with him.

The phone rings again. Dad looks at his watch and shakes his head, but it doesn’t ring a second time.

“I think I’m done,” I say. I wipe my hands in my napkin and crumple it on my plate.

“Are you sure?” Mom asks. “There’s plenty more.”

“My stomach kind of hurts,” I say, which isn’t a complete lie. I’m feeling queasy because I think Emma is trying to reach me. I carry my plate into the kitchen and set it in the sink, then walk back down the hall. The phone is on a small table by the stairs. I pick up the receiver, dial Emma’s number, and then stretch the cord as far as possible from my parents’ earshot.

Within the first ring, Emma answers.

“Josh?” she asks breathlessly.

“What’s the matter? Was that you who called a—”

“I don’t know where to begin,” she says, her voice tight. “I got onto that website again, but—”

“It was there? How did you find it?” I can’t help feeling excited.

“Can you come over?” she asks. It sounds like she’s been crying. “My mom and Martin just left for a walk so you can use the emergency key to let yourself in.”

“Will you tell me what’s going on first?”

“I think the website might be real,” Emma says. “And I’m not happy.”

“I can tell. But why?”

“No,” she says. “I’m talking about the future. I’m never going to be happy.”

“HEY,” JOSH SAYS, pushing open my door.

I look up from my bed. He’s standing at the edge of my room, holding the spare key we hide under a rock by the garage. It has a Scooby-Doo keychain that lights up when you press the nose.

“Sorry I took so long. My parents made me load the dishwasher.” Josh pushes his hands into his pockets. “So what’s going on? You found something bad?”