s2.e11

Shadow Kid

            That Friday night, during a sleepover at Colin’s, the boys watched the first true episode of Dexter’s Laboratory that anyone at home would get to see. The seven minute short debuted on the What a Cartoon! compilation show, and while it didn’t officially start the series, it provided a glimpse at the network’s upcoming eclectic original programing. Wessy and his friends couldn’t know it yet, but the channel and its lineup would end up becoming one of their go-to entertainment sources for the next ten years or so.

            Dexter makes his annoying sister giant so that she’d stay out of his secret lab, but she instead causes chaos in the city. He then uses his brains a second time to create a battle mech to fight and get her to shrink back down to her original size… only for the two of them to encounter their mom at the end, transformed into a giant monster by Dexter’s mutagenic cookies. It was funny, inventive, and fast-paced yet easy to follow.

            “And this got its own series?” Jared asked once the episode came to an end.

            “Yep,” Colin replied. “That seemed a lot different than anything on Nick.”

            Colin had watched from the edge of his bed; the others from their sleeping bags sprawled out through his spacious bedroom. Colin had the distinction of having both the biggest room among the group, and the largest personal TV, making his place a good pick for watching a brand-new cartoon show at night with friends.

            “Maybe this channel will put Nickelodeon out of business,” Arthur mused.

            “Nah, it’s just more to watch,” Zach replied, like he was accepting a challenge.

            “Speaking of, did you notice that Dexter sounded like Chuckie?” Wessy asked.

            “I think they’re voiced by the same person?”

            “He didn’t sound anything like Chuck E.,” Jared argued.

            “Dude, he meant Rugrats, Chuckie Finster—not the guy in a rat costume.”

            “Oh. Guess I still got that place on my mind… Hm, yeah, I kind of hear it.”

            Colin muted the commercials and asked the others, “So, hey, are you guys still planning to come see me and Jared at the ball game tomorrow?”

            There was some mild nodding amongst the group, with Wessy replying, “Sure, Colin. Is it, like… some big important game?”

            “Nah, not at all,” Jared said. “Not this early in the season. It’ll just be something for you to check out, you know? You haven’t actually seen us play before, so…”

            “Oh, do fights ever break out?” Zach asked them. “That would spice things up.”

            “There was a grand total of one scuffle last year, so don’t count on it.”

            “Too bad. While we’re on scuffles, what’s this I hear about Wes’ last sleepover?”

            “It was nothing…” Jared downplayed it. “How do you know about it, anyway?”

            “Sadie mentioned you and Wes got a little physical before Jason and Arthur broke it up. I didn’t think you two would ever have a fight. What brought it on?”

            “We just had some things to sort out, man…” Jared said after seeing that Wessy didn’t know how to respond. “We’re good now, don’t make a thing out of it. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on with The Dump? You going to tell us who the owner is yet?”

            “Hey, yeah,” Arthur added. “We’re your closest friends, Z. You can at least tell us. Especially since we might help choose the new owner for all we know.”

            “Sorry, guys,” Zach sighed. “I just can’t. I promised them.”

            “Can’t even say if it’s a boy or girl…” Wessy replied. “You know, I was thinking about it, and I remembered back when Conrad was checking us all out in fourth grade. But I realized he never got back to us—at least, I never heard about who he picked.”

            “Same,” Colin said. “I was sure he would’ve chosen you, or Zach. But he said he’d tell us in, like, a month? But I never heard anything. I assumed everyone else did.”

            “I think you remember all that better than I do. That part of last year is kind of a blur to me. Seriously, why do you think he’d pick me or Zach over Charlie?”

            “Did you really forget, Wes? Charlie did his chocolate stealing thing a few days before the owner tryouts. Conrad never met him; probably didn’t know who he was.”

            “A few days before… We really are behind schedule. Zach, man! We gotta get to picking the new owner. Or, someone does. The club could disappear.”

            “Can we drop this?” Zach groaned. “All this week, kids were coming up to me about this stuff. The new owner will be chosen soon. Trust me. It’s all good.”

            Luckily for Zach, the capitalism gods were on his side, as they summoned a local ad for King Arcade onto the TV and gave Arthur an easy opening to change the subject.

            “Oh, yeah—I almost forgot,” he exclaimed as a group of screaming kids on the Red Demon blurred by under the words ‘Reopening Soon!!!’. “Dad says the park really is going to reopen in about a week. The repairs are juuuust about done.”

            “You serious?” Jared asked. “They’ve been playin’ this commercial pretty much since the blackout. I was hoping for this weekend and don’t wanna be let down again.”

            “Yeah, it’s for real. Dad’s the ‘boss of electricity’ there, remember? He says some of the transformers got fried, and they just needed to have replacement parts delivered.”

            “We should totally go there next weekend if we can. Maybe fit in a video game marathon, too. Who’s going to volunteer their house for that mega sleepover?”

            “We’ve never spent the night at Jason’s,” Arthur stated, putting him on the spot.

            Jace quickly replied, “O-oh, you wouldn’t want to… It’s small, and…” He saw that the others were all staring at him, waiting for his excuse. “My dad gets kind of crazy when he’s surrounded by kids. You wouldn’t want to see how… crazy he can get.”

            “Really?” Wessy replied. “Huh. Few times we’ve seen him, he seemed pretty normal. Maybe even kind of cool, for an adult. What’s so crazy about him?”

            While Jace thought of the right things to say to get out of the newest trap he had fallen into, criminal mischief was transpiring halfway across town. Not far from the busy interstate, Wes had been waiting in his car on the other side of the street from the George Allen Photo Studio, which was handling the yearbook pictures for Desert Tree Elementary. At 9:30 PM, two and a half hours past closing time, the last technician finally left through the front door, locked the place up, and drove off into the night. The guy had looked exhausted; he must’ve been working on kid portraits all day.

            Unknown to him and his coworkers, when Wes stopped in earlier to pretend to look at picture frames, he had also paid a visit to the back door at the end of the utility hall and made sure that it wouldn’t be locking anytime soon. Wes knew this whole thing was stupid, and taking the risk was stupid, but Jace really wanted this, making it worth it.

            Once the parking lot was empty, he started his car and, after checking for cops, drove over and alongside the building until he got to the back. He got out, crept to the handless door, and pried it open with a butter knife—still effective, and less threatening than a crowbar. He removed the duct tape as he slipped in so the door could lock again, and used his phone light to navigate the darkness and find the actual studio.

            Like he sometimes did when in a stressful situation, he spoke to himself in a whisper, “Okay, you got this… Would be nice if I had another quartz just in case, but… Yeah, Ninja Boy will bail me out if I actually end up in jail. Mm-hmm… Definitely…”

            He entered the big room where the magic happened, set up with plenty of lights and a backdrop. Noticing a computer station in the back, hooked up on a large desk and sitting next to a scanner, he walked across the studio—and spotted something vaguely familiar on the shelf of rolled-up backgrounds. He got closer and checked out a colorful paint spatter backdrop, popular in the mid to late 80s. It might have been the exact same one that the Teller twins stood against for their “HIP!” clothing ad some six years ago.

            Smiling a bit in reminiscence, he got to the computer desk, turned the machine on, was glad to see that it didn’t require any passwords, and hoped that the yearbook photos were already scanned, transferred over, and categorized; if not, he’d have to visit nightly until they were, risking arrest every time. All of this, to get Jace in the yearbook.

            But luck was on his side again, and within a minute of searching and sorting, he got to Ms. Porter’s class photos and quickly opened up Jason Connor’s in Photoshop 3.0. His smile was a little dorky, but genuine—a far cry from his scowls and looks of aggravation from when the two first arrived in 1995. He looked a little older, too.

            After cracking his knuckles, Wes got to it, believing his Photoshop skills were still up to par. A subtle change of hair and eye color, a little effort on the cheeks and nose, a small adjustment to skin tone, a few hits of airbrushing to diminish the dimples—the portrait would still keep Jace’s essence, but also become someone who never existed.

            “This’ll work…” Wes told himself as he worked. “Who really remembers the face of a childhood friend? It’s more about the idea of what someone looked like that lasts.”

            Tonight, he’d make the real Jason Connor, the one with the Clark Kent glasses, the idea of a kid who was there for just a year. In time, far in the future, when adults looked in the yearbook, they wouldn’t see Jace; only the Jason that they remembered.

            With a loud crack, Jared hit a grounder that slipped between two outfielders and let him get to second base. The next kid came to bat—a Sherman Miller fifth-grader—and after two strikes, he hit a ball that brought Jared home. Amid some clapping from the few dozen parents that had shown up and watched from the bleachers, Jared returned to the dugout, giving Colin a high five upon arriving.

            “Jared is actually… pretty good at this,” Zach remarked. “Colin’s not bad, either.”

            “Yeah,” Arthur replied from his spot at the end of their bleacher row. “We probably should’ve gone to at least one game last year… Shown ‘em some support.”

            It was the bottom of the sixth of a tense game between the home team, the Valley Dukes, and their opponents who were leading 5-4, the Skirmishers. Stu from Gavin’s circle of friends had apparently played with them last year, before aging out.

            After a caught pop fly gave the Dukes their third out, the teams swapped places.  The vertical lines of many uniforms took over the field and reorganized back into order as the Dukes took their places on the bases—with Colin standing atop the pitcher’s mound. For a kid that could be nervous and a bit socially awkward, he always looked surprisingly confident when he was up on that little hill and on center stage.

            “Go get ‘em, Robinson!” the Duke’s gruff, forty-something coach bellowed.

            Apropos of nothing, Arthur asked Wessy as Colin threw fastballs, “Hey, Wes—where have you been hanging out on Wednesday afternoons recently? You always seem to be busy around then. You don’t have some other group of friends on the side, right?”

            Wessy laughed and replied, “No way, it’s nothing like that. Actually, I’ve been hanging out at Vanni and Gavin’s house for a bit on Wednesdays…”

            “Hanging out with an older girl, huh? Nice,” Zach said jokingly.

            “I said hanging out at their house. I wouldn’t put it… the other way. They’re kinda cool, you know? They know a lot about music and video games, and sometimes they even sorta give me, like… life lesson type stuff. Things to think about? Also, their collection is still huge, too. I’ve been playing games I didn’t even know existed.”

            “I guess that’s kinda cool. I have a cousin her age in San Fran I like hanging out with when we visit. Teenagers can be really annoying and listen to too much angry music, but they can also talk to ya about the weird stuff in ways adults never do.”

            “Yeah, maybe it’s sorta like that…”

            “So… do you ever actually beat them at any of these games?”

            “… Sometimes I get close.”

            Colin caught a grounder and threw it to third base, taking out a runner before they could get home and earning a smattering of applause from the “fans.”

            “Good job, Colin!” his dad shouted a few rows down, garnering a look and a timid wave from his kid as the next batter stepped up.

            Colin’s pop was a bearded, friendly, slightly overweight guy, a “dad” dad, complete with all the bad jokes and a boring desk job. His wife, sitting near him and sipping her Diet Pepsi, was much thinner and worked as a grocery store manager. When the three were put together, they formed a perfect middle of the middle-class family, albeit without a white picket fence—and, perhaps a second child.

            It had recently occurred to Jace that among Wessy’s circle of friends, no siblings could be found outside of Lucy and the twins. It was probably one of the reasons that they were all pretty tight, occasional squabbles aside. Jace was never certain if having a brother or sister would improve his own life, but it wasn’t like his dad Conrad would ever give him one regardless. Still, he sometimes did feel lonely those last months of his school year, when his friends stopped coming over. Not that he hadn’t deserved it.

            He could now accept what Wes had told him about his behavior much earlier on, way back about a half-year ago. And now he wasn’t so sure if he wanted to leave the new friends he had made in the past, or confront those of his own time and try to mend what they once had. Thinking about it as he watched a little league baseball game no one would remember in 2020 under a hot sun, a new existential crisis began to grow, and—

            “Anyone want soda?” Arthur suddenly asked the other three, after removing his cap and fanning his sweaty forehead. “Man… how do they play in this heat?”

            “I’ll take one,” Jared replied, dug into his pocket, and handed over two quarters.

            “Seconds for you, Wes?”

            He shook his head and sipped from his large-sized drink. “Nah, I got some left.”

            Jace looked to his right. Two bleacher stands away, Adult Wes was still in one of the top corners, separated from anyone else as he lazily watched the game from behind his sunglasses. His plan to attend was never forwarded to Jace, nor had he interacted at all with him the whole game. Maybe it had just been a spur-of-the-moment thing.

            With Arthur getting up, Jace figured this was as good a chance as any to take care of some business and maybe pay his uncle a visit at the same time.

            “I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he said and got to his feet.

            “Don’t fall into the porta-potty,” Wessy quipped.

            “You know, we are close to the seventh inning stretch,” Zach added. “Just sayin’. Usually people wait and take care of the essentials then.”

            “We’re just trying to beat the crowds,” Arthur replied with a snort and looked around at the mostly empty stands. “Catch me a foul ball while I’m gone.”

            Jace and Arthur walked down the steps, past the kid-umpire, and split up behind the stands, with Arty heading off to the small snack kiosk. There were only two porta-potties on site, both available—not that Jace was looking forward to the visit.

            As he made his way over, sticking close to the back of the bleacher stands, he passed by Wessy and Zach, sitting just above him. He couldn’t help but overhear two words that made him stop in his tracks: “runs” and “dump.” He thought they were talking about something disgusting for a moment before hearing more.

            “Yeah, Zach, I do believe you talk to the owner all the time. Never didn’t.”

            “Okay, cool. I just heard my fill about being a liar all week. Anyway, I asked because… Keep this from the others, all right? They wanna meet you.”

            “Wait, really? Do they want me to help pick the next owner or something?”

            Curious, Jace crept in closer for a better listen, going under the bleachers to stay out of sight. After another crack of the bat, Zach leaned back and sighed.

            “I dunno what they want exactly. But it’s you, and you alone. Uh, with me there, too. But it’s gotta happen tomorrow at the mall, noon sharp. So, do whatever you need to, to get down there. Ask your mom, ride the bus, bike, hitchhike, whatever.”

            “Sounds important…”

            “Could be. Again, don’t tell the others.”

            With that, Zach changed the subject and the two began talking about upcoming video games like they would any other day. Uncle Wes had never brought up this meeting with The Dump’s owner, and there was no telling if it had actually happened originally, or if something had changed down the line to bring it about. In any case, Jace knew it was worth bringing up, and Wes happened to be around at the moment.

            “Come on, guys, you got this,” Wes said to himself at the beginning of the seventh inning, with the scores now tied. “Not that I remember who wins. Guess that makes it exciting enough. You guys should’a gone pro…” he joked.

            “You talking to yourself again?”

            Wes brought up his shades and looked down at the side of his bleacher stand to see Jace staring up at him, whom he had no plans to bother during his game visit.

            “What’s goin’ on, shortstop?” Wes asked him.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “Enjoying a free baseball game, what’s it look like?”

            “Hey, you told me that you do eventually find out who runs The Dump, right?”

            “Yeah, Zach told me in sixth grade. Why?”

            “Uh, so… that means you didn’t meet them at the mall tomorrow… right?”

            Wes stared back a moment longer, before folding up his sunglasses, putting them on his collar, and bending down a bit to get serious.

            He answered the question, “No. That’s not supposed to happen.”

            “Well, it is now. I just overheard you and Zach talking about it. There’s gonna be some secret meeting with just the two of you, and whoever the owner is.”

            “Jace, I swear that didn’t happen. I would have definitely remembered it. Crap. What the hell did we change this time?” He thought things over, glanced to see another kid strike out, and continued, “You gotta be my eyes and ears on this. I need to know what they’re going to say, and… what Wessy might find out. When is it?”

            “Tomorrow, at the mall.”

            “Weird. Just… really bizarre. Okay, we’ll get you in there. Man…” he muttered. “What is going on? I thought we were in the clear. I don’t need this stress…” He looked down again to see that Jace was still there, waiting for something. “What are you still doing here? Go back and hang out with your friends.”

            “Pfft, fine. You’re welcome.”

            “Ah…” Wes sighed. “Look, sorry, bud—I’m just kind of freaked out over this. We’ll talk about what we’re going to do later.”

            Jace gave him a shrug and walked off to use the bathroom. Wes watched the game for another couple of seconds before getting up to leave.

            “Did we screw up somewhere?” he mumbled and made his way down the stand, past some of the parents watching and hoping their kid wouldn’t blow it. “No, no… But why would a meeting be set up? It couldn’t’ve been me who… Warren…”

            He couldn’t conceive of just why the ninja kid might have made such a meeting happen, but if he was behind it, he wanted to figure out his reasons—and if they weren’t good enough, put a stop to it before it happened. If not out of concern for the possible messing-up of the new Dump owner selection process, then for what it might mean for his own childhood development. Having Wessy see the owner wasn’t part of the plan.

            When he made it to the parking lot and approached his car, he felt a hand on his shoulder, which startled him something fierce. He whipped around, expecting to see a horrible sight like one of those daemon tentacles, but it was only his stockbroker. That guy, he could deal with—but he didn’t want to waste the time. Warren was out there, somewhere. Wes had to use the rest of his day to at least try and find him.

            “Eddie, I don’t know why you followed me to a little league game, but I have to get somewhere,” Wes said impatiently and pulled out his car keys. “Call me.”

            “Kid, I tried, but you don’t pick up! We gotta talk, now!”

            “How did you even find me here? You some sort of stalker?”

            “No! I’ve just been driving around looking for ya, and saw your car in the lot here. The baseball field is on Kettle… It’s a major road,” he explained, gesturing to the busy nearby highway. He took out a cigar, lit it, and puffed, right in the parking lot where little baseball players frequently passed through. “Take it easy, Nick. I just want to talk. My kid used to play here… He was a good player. Almost won the regionals.”

            “Uh-huh. Look, I was going to tell you, but—”

            “Why’d you do it? We were on such a hot streak together, you and me. Then you go and cash out without consulting me first. Do you have anything left invested?”

            “I’m moving out of town soon. And it’s my money. I can do whatever I want with it. You made plenty off of me, too, Ed. But sooner or later, the money train comes into station. Take your commission fees and buy yourself a new suit.”

            “Look, if you’re moving out of town, I get wanting to be liquid for a while. But cross country, wherever—distance doesn’t matter. When you get to where you’re goin’, work with me again, would ya? Could you at least do that for your pal Eddie?”

            “Sure, Ed. I’ll call you when I get there,” Wes replied and went for his car door.

            “Wait a minute…” Eddie said greedily and grabbed at Wes’ arm—an action that really ticked him off, at least internally. “I’m not sayin’ I don’t trust ya, but just in case we drop out of touch… I’ve been a good buddy, right? A trustworthy business pal? Do ya think… You could share your formula before you leave? I promise, I won’t sell it.”

            “Oh, Eddie…” Wes let out a sigh. “You are such a cliché. All you want is money. You think it’ll fix all your problems, if you just keep getting more of it. I used to have more of it than I knew what to do with. It didn’t make my life any better.”

            “That’s why you need someone like me to tell ya how to spend it! C’mon, now—”

            “If I give you a big stock tip, will you get off my back? For good? Let us go our separate ways? Would that be a fair trade, Eddie?”

            “A stock… tip? Well, I mean… What do ya got?”

            Wes dove through some of the historical stock charts he had memorized from his iPad, remembered a good one, and replied, “Buy up AOL shares. Sell them after the big merger in 2000. Then get out of the business and spend your days sipping piña coladas in Belize or wherever. You’re welcome in advance.”

            “That world wide web thing? In… 2000? W-wait, have you had someone spilling secrets this whole time? Kid! We could get in big trouble here—if you’ve been getting your information from insiders, you have to tell me, right now.”

            “Nah,” Wes said, yanked himself free, and finally got his car door open. “See, there never was any formula. Truth is, I’m a time traveler, old man. Oh, yeah. And I know what happens to you in a couple weeks. Not that I have anything to do with it.”

            “A time… You joking around with me? H-hey!” He banged on the driver side’s door window once Wes had closed it and started the engine. “Stop tryin’ to mess with my head and tell me what’s really going on! Time traveler? That’s the best ya got?”

            “Yep,” Wes said and shifted into reverse. He again scoured his brain and brought up the Wikipedia page for 1996 events that he had also memorized, and gave him two predictions, “Sri Lanka wins the Cricket World Cup and Braveheart wins Best Picture.”

            Eddie bit down angrily on his cigar and simply muttered, “What?”

            With skidding tires, Wes backed out and sped away, hoping to bring his time with Eddie to an end as he left him looking dumbfounded by a baseball mom’s minivan.

            “So… Ready for a little spy mission?” Wes asked Jace after parking the car in the back of the mall lot the next day. “Remember, you really gotta stay out of sight.”

            “And you still want me to record this?” Jace asked after sliding his iPhone into his pocket. “I get that you want to know what goes down, but my phone already almost got me into trouble once here… What if someone sees me using it?”

            “It has one of the smallest cameras in the world right now—it should be easy enough to hide. Just don’t attract attention to yourself.”

            “What if Warren shows up?”

            “If he did somehow set up this meeting, then he probably already knows what all it changes, if anything. I spent all day yesterday looking for him, Jace. He wasn’t around. I even checked Colin’s treehouse. He’s probably in his hiding place in the past.”

            “All right…” Jace took a deep breath. “I got some spy experience way back when we first arrived, so I know what I’m doing… Maybe?”

            “Oh, and Jace?” Wes pushed open the passenger door. “When you see The Dump owner in there, don’t, like… gasp and give yourself away.”

            Jace wished Wes would just go ahead and reveal the owner’s identity, but he must’ve had his unreasonable reasons for withholding it. Task in hand, Jace hopped out of the car and walked the distance to the entrance. Wes had taken precautions, giving him space in the lot to maneuver if he spotted Zach or Wessy, and time to scout the mall. Jace only saw it as a waste of an hour, and his uncle being overly serious. How could his meeting with the owner of a trash club really be so important?

            Regardless, he was going to do the job the best he could. He traversed the entire mall three times, on the lookout for two—or possibly three—of his classmates. It was another busy day at the place, and as he navigated crowds he kept his mind busy on his thoughts of just who the mystery kid might be… and then sort of lost track of time.

            Just as he was considering Willa’s qualifications as a club runner, he nearly ran right into Zach and Wessy’s peripheral—Jace had to scuttle back and behind a pillar upon seeing them waiting on a bench outside of the Hot Topic. He checked his watch; noon on the dot. He peeked over to see the two chatting, and then carefully crept up to a decorative pot of palm shrubs by a vending machine, a good enough hiding place that kept the two audible. In position, he prepared his phone to record a fateful meeting.

            “They’re a little late…” Zach grumbled. “Not a surprise, though.”

            “Zach, can you at least tell me if I’ve met this kid before?” Wessy asked, after watching a teen couple come out of the Hot Topic in matching Beavis and Butthead shirts. “You know how I can be around kids I barely know, or have never met…”

            “Yeah. You know them.”

            Making sure that no one could see him or his future tech, Jace checked the playback on his test recording. Wessy and Zach were visible enough from the side, but while Jace could just barely hear them, the iPhone microphone didn’t pick up anything; he’d have to get closer, making this all more dangerous. If he got caught, he’d have to somehow explain both being here and why he had such a spiffy device. At that point, things would be so screwed up already that he’d be better off just running away instead.

            Behind Wessy and Zach was a planter of fake ivies, atop a bright teal mall couch opposite the Hot Topic bench. The spot would put him just a couple feet away from the meeting. Too close for comfort—but likely the only place from where he’d catch any meaningful audio. His peers seemed entranced by the store’s customers, so Jace took a deep breath, ran over to the couch, planted himself flatly on the furniture, took out his phone, and with an outstretched arm, held it snug against the planter. He found a nice little hole in the ivies where he could see the back of their heads and began recording.

            His only regret was having to shoot in vertical. He hated those videos.

            “Oh, wait—there he is,” Zach suddenly said. “Guess he was checking out some merch in there. Knowing how he is, he was probably making fun of it.”

            His heart beating faster, Jace angled the phone down ever so slightly and moved his head a bit to get a good view of the screen. A kid their age was emerging from the store, hands dug into his jeans. Above his dark red leather jacket—and what kind of kid wore a leather jacket?—was a broody face, one eye partially covered by dark brown hair.

            “That’s the owner? Zach, hold on—you said it was someone I knew. I’ve never seen this kid in my… W-wait…” Wessy stood up with a jolt and stared at the boy under the Hot Topic marquee, who, after seeing him, stared right back. “I-is that… Is that…”

            “Easy, Wes,” Zach said and also got to his feet. “Don’t freak out. There are people around. We want to keep this cool, and on the down-low, right?”

            “Zach…” Wessy nearly wheezed. “T-that’s Charlie. THAT is Charlie.”

            Jace’s heart leapt again and he nearly dropped the phone, but managed to get it back into place without anyone noticing. He was just as surprised as Wessy, and must have had the same immediate question blasting in his head: How?

            “Cool your jets, Wes-boy,” Charlie said in a throaty voice that a kid his age would have to really put effort into to get right. “Don’t lose your cool, right?”

            “C-Charlie… But… How? Why? No one’s even heard from you since…”

            “The two of us have kept in touch,” Zach answered. “Charlie’s ‘school’ makes things tough enough, but his parents basically grounded him for a year, as well. Buuut, because my folks were cool enough to give me a private line, the two of us sometimes get to have secret midnight chats. I keep him up to date that way.”

            “For how long?” Wessy looked at the both of them, back and forth.

            “Since a few weeks after his last, great stunt.”

            Charlie whipped his hair off his eyes, only for it to come right back. “I never stopped thinking about you guys. But I couldn’t chat with all of you. God knows Jared would’ve spilled the beans right away, ruined everything, cut off my one line to the outside world… Dumb kid, always running his mouth.”

            Wessy seemed a little taken aback by the insult, but still got right into the other big question. “So… how do you run The Dump, without actually… being there?”

            “Duh.” Charlie’s one visible eye turned to Zach without the rest of him moving a muscle. “Through Big Z here. He tells me what’s up, I make the big decisions. I approve the posters that go up, if we should shut down or not, who gets banned, what nosy fourth graders might need a ‘talking to.’ Zach does most of the work.”

            “And… Conrad…”

            “Yeah, he’s a guy with the right ideas about things. Picked me right out after he heard what I did in the chocolate store.” Charlie was contemplative for a few seconds. “And he tells me… ‘Just run it remotely. Whatever. It’ll work.’ Guess it did.”

            “Charlie… We’ve missed ya, man. We talk about you all the time.”

            “I bet.”

            “Did, um… Did you want to hang out, or something?”

            “Hey, before we get to business, let me ask you somethin’. Everyone at DTE still doing that whole ‘cool’ thing? Does everyone try to be as cool as they can?”

            “Well, yeah… We try to be a bunch of cool kids. Things got a little hairy during the big heat wave, but we’re all good again. We keep up on the trends, and games…”

            Charlie let out a peh and muttered, “Figures. Yeah, they’re still a bunch of kids.”

            After a long silence between the three of them, Zach was the first to respond, “… What? Charlie, what are you talking about? And why do you sound… like, angry?”

            “Angry? I’m not angry. I’m just past all the meaningless crap like trying to be ‘cool’ or whatever. I don’t look forward to the new ‘awesome’ junk the big companies push on us, either. Waste of money trying to keep up on it all. Nintendo’s coming out with a new console, again. Trying to make us buy a new Mario game, again. And Hollywood stopped being original back in the mid-80s. But somehow it’s still so important that we keep up on all these things just to be able to have something to talk about.”

            At this point, Wessy seemed too shocked and despondent to even have any idea what to say. Jace couldn’t blame him; one of his earliest friends had just seemingly openly mocked and betrayed everything that made him and his buddies happy.

            “Is this a joke, Charlie?” Zach got serious and shirt-collared his shades. “Are you just pretending to be some moody teenager? You can’t be real, saying stuff like that.”

            “Hey, Big Z. You’re the one that made us meet in this capitalist cesspool. You know I hate the mall. Almost as much as I hate that big ugly amusement park.”

            “What are you talking about, man? You invited us here!”

            “Man. Bro. Dude,” Charlie ridiculed him. “Does everyone still talk like that? And you told me that this would be the best place to meet up when I last called you. Your memory coming back yet? Then you called me back and asked if Wessy could come.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Uh-huh. Okay,” Charlie sighed. “You’re saying you don’t remember me telling you the whole point to all this? I’m transferring ownership of The Dump to you for the remainder of the year. I don’t care about it anymore. Conrad told me I could do that, if there was a second kid here as a witness. So, congrats. I guess. Job’s all yours. I wasn’t going to show up and pick the next owner, anyway. I don’t need everyone kissing my feet.” Charlie looked at Wessy, staring at the ground. “Oh, come on, Wes. Don’t tell me you’re into that hero worship garbage, too. Live your life. Don’t idolize people.”

            “C-Charlie…” Wessy managed to squeak out. “What’s up with you?”

            “You know what trying to be ‘cool’ all the time did for me? Nothing. Sure, I made kids laugh and holler—and I always liked that. Best time in my life used to be when I got the whole gang roaring. But after that, when I’m home, late at night? What was any of that even worth? Being popular in elementary school means squat.”

            “I still looked up to you…”

            “Who asked ya? Zach, did any of you change over the last year? Grow up, even a little? Or is Park still pretending to be a businessman?” Jace watched as Charlie took a moment to work up a list in his head—and then, for the first time since the meeting began, smile a bit himself. “Are Tam and Trude still disgustingly gross? Oh! And Willa and her stupid cat ears… Spice with her fashion advice, Robby being a hopeless dork, Brian and his little… doodles. Now, Felicity… She could probably still make me laugh. How’s the teacher, by the way, Wes? Yeah, I saw Ms. Porter last year. Kinda hot.”

            “You’re horrible…” Zach grumbled angrily.

            “Nah, I just figured out life a lot faster than you guys did. Most of the other kids my age at the place I got sent to did, too. Wanna know a secret? Hey…” Charlie looked around to see if any passing adults were watching, not that it mattered to him. “I totally smoked a cigarette. It was nasty, but I still did it. Now that’s ‘cool,’ right?”

            “Whatever you say, man.” Zach looked at Wessy to see how upset he was. “I’ll gratefully take over The Dump. The others don’t need to know who was running it, not when you think so little of us. You know…” Zach took a breath and straightened his posture. “I get that you burned yourself out—I could hear that in your voice on the phone, but I had no idea that you suddenly saw all your old friends as garbage.”

            “Ah, Zach, c’mon. You aren’t garbage. You just got a naïve outlook on everything. You probably still think middle school will be fun and exciting. It won’t be.”

            “I know what a nihilist is, Charlie. My parents told me to never become one.”

            “Ooh, smart as usual, aren’t you? Meh. But you’re wrong. I’m not into nihilism.” Charlie stuck his hands back in his pockets and shrugged. “I still believe in myself.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Just saying. The only person you should ever really want to impress is number one. Stop worrying about what others think or expect. That’s what I figured out.”

            “And how’d you do that? You take some spiritual journey or something?”

            “Oh, good—you’re still funny, too! Do you really want to know what I did?”

            “Sure. Tell me everything. I’m wondering how you got so freaking messed up.”

            Charlie made a finger gun with his right hand and pointed it toward the ceiling. “That old chocolate guy who hates kids? I totally told him I was gonna go bang with my dad’s gun if he didn’t fill a bag full of those sweet treats,” he said with a forced grin.

            “You’re… kidding, right?” Zach replied, Wessy again too shocked for words. “That isn’t funny, Charlie. Just… not even remotely. If that’s true, that’s just demented. What… What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do something like that?”

            “Hey,” he shrugged again, “it wasn’t loaded. I only know the passcode to one of my dad’s two safes. But you’re right. It was messed up. I wish I could undo it. I know I went too far, and now I’m paying for it. But, see, the thing is, I did do it. I saw how far I could push things, and you know what? For maybe a minute, it felt like I was in third grade again, doing a backflip off the playground fort. I messed that up, but, boy did it get laughs, right? Yeah… It actually made me feel something again. One last time…”

            “You need help. Come on, Wes. Let’s get away from this psycho. Wes?” Zach noticed his friend’s sullen, far-away look. “Hey, your mom’s waiting in the lot. Let’s get the guys together, hit the K, and forget all this. I’ll buy you an ICEE.”

            “Wait, I almost forgot about Sadie,” Charlie exclaimed. “How’s she doing?”

            “What, you want to insult her, too? She’d hate to see what you’ve become.”

            Charlie then seemingly noticed and then looked straight into the iPhone camera. Jace dared not move. But as the shape of the phone and lens must have been nothing special or recognizable to him, he possibly figured it was just a piece of equipment for… maintaining fake ivy plants or something, and he looked back at his former friends.

            “Nah… Sadie’s okay. All right. I’m bored and out of things I wanted to say, so I’m getting out of this dump… Actually—there is one last thing. I hit my prime in third grade, guys. Firing on all cylinders; couldn’t be better. Then I ran out of ways to outdo myself. So, if either of you are hoping to get in one last ‘epic’ moment for old Arty to get a picture of, just don’t be surprised if nothing you do after it compares.”

            “We’re not all gonna be burnouts like you,” Zach said as he led Wessy away.

            “Hey, Z! Look at the bright side,” Charlie called out to him before he was out of earshot. “Ya got what you wanted. You’re now probably the coolest kid in Desert Tree!”

            Feeling hot blood replacing the adrenaline rush he got from being anxious about the meeting, Jace stopped recording and sat up once the two left. Charlie, now alone, let out a sigh and actually looked a little regretful or forlorn about what he’d done. But him feeling bad did nothing to assuage Jace, and once Charlie turned to leave, he ran up from behind without a second thought. No tap on the shoulder was needed; Charlie heard him approach and turned around to see a strange kid seething within arm’s reach.

            “I know you from somewhere?” he asked Jace.

            “I…” Jace remembered to breath. “I started going to your old school this year.”

            “Oh, yeah? You chummy with those dorks or something? Who are you?”

            “Your…” Jace huffed. “Basically, your replacement.”

            “Oh. Neat. Hey, tell me if Wes ever actually does something original.”

            Jace wasn’t sure what compelled him, but he lost control of himself and suddenly advanced on Charlie, a clenched fist hovering near his shoulder and intense eyes. Charlie stared at the knuckle sandwich, then back to Jace, but otherwise had no reaction.

            “You going to punch me or what? At least give me your name first.”

            Jace saw something in Charlie—some darkness, like a deep, unrelenting cynicism about the world. Like… he was in the place that Jace himself could sometimes touch upon when he was at his worst. Hitting him would teach him nothing, if there were any lessons that could reach him at all by this point. So, he stopped acting tough.

            He instead simply muttered, “Wes didn’t deserve that…”

            “He would’ve found out or been told by someone else eventually. I just woke him up to the real world a little sooner. You’ll probably figure it out soon, too.”

            He waited for a response, one more thing to debate, but Jace wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. With one last shrug, Charlie walked off, back into his own world.

            “How’d it go?” Adult Wes asked Jace as soon as he got into the passenger seat and slammed the door. “Don’t leave me hanging. I have to know what happened.”

            “Later. Get us home. Zach’s going to come get me soon for a visit to Circle K.”

            “Can I at least look at what you recorded first?”

            “Drive, Wesley,” Jace demanded, looking serious about it.

            “… Okay, fine.” Wes gave in and started the engine. “Keep me in suspense.”

            Just ten minutes after they arrived, while the car’s engine was still cooling down, Zach knocked on the door. Anticipating the visit, Jace answered quickly, his shoes still already on. Zach’s bike was at his side, and waiting in the driveway behind him were the other guys. Wessy was half-smiling, but it was obvious he really wasn’t feeling it.

            Even Zach was unable to show his typical full enthusiasm as he asked, “Hey, Jace… You wanna… hang out at the K? I actually got some news to share…”

            “Sure,” Jace replied right away. “I’ll get my bike.”

            “Cool, cool… We’ll wait here.”

            Jace went through the house to get to the backyard where his bike was kept, passing by Wes on the way, only sort-of watching some afternoon Saturday cartoons.

            “Wait a little longer,” Jace said as he walked by his uncle. “I’m not trying to be a jerk—I just want to see what Zach will say, and what the others might think first.”

            “If you say so…” Wes grumbled back and slumped further into the couch.

            Once Jace fetched his bike and set off with the group, they rode at a slow pace to their newish hangout. Arthur, Colin, and Jared all looked a little curious about why the others were quieter than usual; Wessy and Zach certainly looked like something was on their minds. The only thing Jace wondered was just how much Zach would divulge.

            A sunglass-wearing teenager was nursing a large ICEE as he leaned against the store window. Jace quickly identified him as Warren. The plain-clothed ninja turned toward him ever so slightly, just to acknowledge that they saw each other. Jace otherwise ignored his presence as he went inside to get a beverage with the gang.

            When they came back outside a few minutes later and everyone had a frozen drink in their favorite flavors, Zach couldn’t even find it in himself to stand in one of his typical cool postures. He was instead slumped on the ground against the payphone pillar, where he sipped at his beverage between sighs and long silences.

            “I’m half-way through my drink, Zach…” Jared eventually spoke up. “Are you going to, like… tell us the big news while we’re here?”

            “Sure…” Zach took a big gulp through his straw. “So… Me and Wes had a couple big meetings today at the mall. One of them was planned. The Dump owner…”

            “Whoa, you really met them in person? Guess you came through after all.”

            “They, um…” Zach rubbed his neck as he lied, “want to remain anonymous.”

            “Uh-huh. Cool. Uh… what’s anom-imous mean again?”

            “That they don’t want their identity out there, J,” Arthur replied. “They must want to stay mysterious for… whatever reason.”

            Zach continued, “Yeah. I’ll tell you guys someday, though. Maybe in a year or something. The point of that meeting—and Wes was there and saw it, too—it was to make me the owner for the rest of the year, let me make the rest of the big decisions.”

            “Hey, congrats!” Colin exclaimed. “That’s awesome. You gonna announce that to the fifth-graders on Monday? I’m sure they’ll believe you. Most of them.”

            “That’s the plan…”

            “What about picking a new owner?” Jace asked, to make sure that still happened.

            “Eventually. I have to… clear my head first. And get some practice in, really running the place by myself instead of just being the middle-guy.”

            “So… what’s up, then?” Jared asked. “You don’t seem all that happy.”

            “We also ran into Charlie.”

            Colin choked a bit on some of his beverage’s icy bits as Jared spit some of his out to exclaim, “Wait, really? I didn’t think any of us would see him again!”

            “You didn’t miss anything…” Wessy finally spoke, somberly. “He changed. In all the worst ways. It was like aliens replaced his brain, made him talk nonsense.”

            “I don’t know if I’d put it exactly like that, but…” Zach back-tossed the rest of his drink into the nearby trashcan without even standing up first. “Yeah, he’s totally gone into some ‘everything sucks’ mode. I know teenagers can get like that, but, man… He was hardcore about it. He didn’t just burn out, guys—he stopped caring about us. And all that cool stuff he did? All of it? He said it means nothing.”

            “… Damn…” Jared muttered. “That’s… tough to hear, Zach.”

            “Sheesh, I’m sorry you two had to see something like that,” Colin added.

            “Would’a been better to never see him again,” Zach grumbled. “Then we’d just still think he was off doing awesome stuff somewhere, maybe thinking of us right back. We looked up to him, you know? Wes especially. Those two go way back…”

            “Is there really no getting him back?” Arthur wondered.

            “No… Trust me. He’s not our Charlie anymore. Don’t even bother trying.”

            “Well… At least he brought us all together. He gave us that.”

            “I guess. I just don’t want to think about how any of us could become like him.”

            “Never,” Wessy stated, trying to make a promise. “And know what? I’m going to… do something really amazingly awesome, even better than anything Charlie ever did. Just watch. Something big—something that’ll prove him wrong. I’ll never be a burnout.”

            “Good luck with that, Wes. If you need help planning… that something, I’m here for ya. It’s just… Man, I wish I had some idea of what it was like actually having the club owner around. Charlie never visited us, or hung out and set the atmosphere.”

            “You could ask him what it was like,” Jared suggested.

            Zach looked up to see who he was talking about, in time to see Hutch coming out of the store with a bag of Cheetos and a large soda.

            “Hey, Hutch, my man!” Zach called out to him after getting to his feet.

            The big kid saw them and sauntered over. Behind him, Warren set off, apparently having heard all he needed to. Jace had pretty much forgotten he was there.

            Hutch sipped his soda, licked his orange fingers, and wiped them on his cup before asking, “What’s up? I’m not sharing my Cheetos if that’s what you want…”

            “Nah, I’m good. Hey, what was it like having Conrad around in The Dump? Was he bossy? Or kinda chill? Did he like to kick people out? Did he allow gambling?”

            “Uh…” Hutch bit into a Cheeto to think. “Conrad was kind of a bully, I guess. I mean, the cool kids hung out there, but he usually walked the playground trying to look tough… Um, when he did visit, he’d just complain about all the things that were wrong. ‘You can’t play that game in my club,’ or… ‘Hutch, you’re ruining the vibe, get out.’”

            “Ugh,” Zach sighed. “So… he wasn’t great, either. I need to break the cycle…”

            “What’cha talking about now?”

            “Ah, right. Hutch, I want you to be among the first to know that I’m the new owner. You can ask Wes—he saw it all happen. And there’s going to be some changes.”

            “Oh. Um, cool. Hey, could I be a bouncer? I mean, there could be two of us.”

            “Tell ya what. I’ll sleep on it. See ya tomorrow.”

            Hutch grinned. “Okay, new owner.”

            He left with his snack, and Zach crossed his arms and worked up to one of his confident smiles as he looked out at the flowing traffic, reflected in his shades.

            He proclaimed, “It won’t be for very long, but I’ll be the owner they remember.”

            Shortly after Wes grimaced for the third time while watching the meeting on Jace’s phone, the video finally ended. He dropped his arm onto the cushion, along with the phone itself, and fell back on the couch where he stared up at the ceiling.

            “Yeah. That was painful,” he moaned. “And poor Wessy had to experience it. I guess that memory will catch up and hit me eventually, too. Like a freight train.”

            “Sorry, dude…” Jace exhaled from the other end of the sofa. “If it makes any difference, your younger self promised to do ‘something awesome’ about thirty minutes ago, so I think his submission to the Toy Run is still going to happen.”

            “I don’t get it… The way I remember it, Charlie was a no-show until high school. By then, he had fallen in with a different crowd and we barely interacted anymore. Fine. Childhood friends go their separate ways. But I never found out what he did, or how he truly felt about us. When Zach told me he was the owner in sixth, he didn’t mention him being… the damage boy on the video. Huh. Zach did still end up being the new owner, so the meeting must’ve happened originally. Maybe just with a different witness?”

            “Dunno. But, see, I was right… about the whole… robbery thing.”

            “Yeah, guess so… Sorry I doubted you. The kid really did go crazy.” Wes jolted upright from the cushion as something hit him. “Wait… If Wessy knows the truth…”

            He left the couch in a hurry and disappeared into his room. Before Jace could ask just what he was doing, he returned with his trusty attaché case. He put it on the couch between them, rolled in an updated combination he hadn’t shared with Jace, and after opening it, took out the separate box holding his firearm. He felt its weight in his hands.

            “Something’s still in there…” he breathed out in relief. “But is it still…”

            Jace flinched just a bit when Wes took out the handgun and studied it.

            “Wait…” Jace had a revelation. “Is that… Charlie’s?”

            “Still is, yeah,” Wes said and put it away. “Even knowing the truth, I still got this from him…” He noticed Jace’s expression. “Look, I don’t like guns, either, but don’t act like you haven’t racked up a body count on all those shooters you’ve played.”

            “It’s just… Now I know that was his, and what he did with it…”

            “He chose to ruin his tween years, not us.” Wes locked his case back up. “I knew he had this and bought it from him before we left. I didn’t know he used it like that.”

            “So that one house you ran into while I was in the car…”

            “Yeah, his place. He’s been selling everything he had other than the hardware he needs for all his… crypto-crap, or whatever he’s doing with his life by 2020.”  

            The front door suddenly unlocked itself, and Warren strode right in, his magnetic glove and master key for all mechanical locks covering his right hand. Wes didn’t give him a chance to say hi or explain his presence before making his grievances known.

            “So, hey, you want to tell me why you had my younger self meet Charlie?”

            Warren sighed as he walked up to the couch and crossed his arms. “You originally asked me that weeks from now, and I wondered why. So, I traced it back to today.” He looked at Jace. “I didn’t expect that you’d find out, or that he’d send you to record it.”

            “I… overheard plans,” Jace admitted. “Are you going to go back and ‘fix’ this?”

            “Do I need to?” Warren looked at Wes again. “Or are you willing to listen to reason and keep this in the timeline? You could learn from what happened, too.”

            “I don’t even have a quartz right now, kid,” Wes grumbled. “Just tell me why this meeting was important. And why I seem to be your mission. And also, how you did it.”

            Warren took his mask out of his pocket, put it to his mouth, and demonstrated two of the device’s voice-changing presets. “Hey,” he said in Zach’s voice. “I’m really cool. Yo, Charlie. Let’s meet at the mall.” He then gave the mask a tap and spoke in Charlie’s voice. “Yeah, whatever. I hate everything. Wes should never become like me.”

            “Cute,” Wes groaned. “You might like screwing with my life, but Jace told me you weren’t even there to see this one. I bet you’re curious about how bad it went.”

            Jace took that as a cue and held up his phone to offer Warren a look, who snatched it and watched the entire video without much of a reaction.

            “That… was even worse than I expected…” he said and handed back the phone. “Yeah, I wasn’t there, but that’s why I checked on you and Zach today—to make sure you weren’t too messed up. But I still have my reasons that I can’t share, Wes.”

            “Nothing I can do about it now,” Wes conceded. “But at least tell me something.”

            Warren thought it over and replied, “Charlie went supernova and then became a black hole—and the polar opposite of you. You shouldn’t still be looking up to him.”

            “I guess you’re the real expert on ‘improving’ my life. Not like I have any idea why you need to. But I sure wish you’d stop… Now, is there another reason you’re here?”

            “Actually…” He looked away. “Could you maybe… make me some pastitsio?”