“Hang on a sec.” Kenzie rushed to the desk and returned with an envelope, handing it to her from a safe distance. “If you won’t let me explain, maybe it’ll be better coming from you. Still, there are things in here that’ll be hella bizarre.”
“Hella?”
“Right, sorry. It means ‘very.’ My bad.”
“My bad?”
“Shit, I did it again. My bad means my mistake. I use silly outdated slang when I get nervous.”
Curiosity interrupted her escape plan. “How outdated? I’ve never heard any of it before.”
“I don’t know, early 2000s?” Kenzie looked away from her widened eyes and fortified himself with a deep breath. “Here’s the thing … You’re no longer in 1982.”
“I know that. It’s 1983 now.”
“Not so much. It is New Year’s Day, but the year is 2015. So while you just turned nineteen on the inside—Happy Birthday, by the way—your body is the age it’s supposed to be in 2015. So chronologically you’re…” He paused to calculate the number, but Oona beat him to it.
“Fifty-one?” No. No no no. HELLA no.
“Right. You’re fifty-one on the outside, but on the inside, you still have the mind and memories of yourself at nineteen. So it’s like you’ve swapped bodies. Only with yourself. At a different age.” He gave her an apologetic look. “You told me to memorize a speech explaining all this, but I was sure I’d be able to wing it. Sorry.”
Oona stared into the fire. Her face could’ve been made of marble, it was so pale and still. Ten seconds. Twenty. Her lips moved as if reciting a silent prayer, except they formed no real words.
A glance at Kenzie, whose dark eyes reflected an inner tug-of-war between panic and serenity.
The edges of her mouth twitched down. “So you’re saying I’ve been through … a time machine or something?”
“Or something.”
“Did you do this to me?”
“God no. You’ve never been able to figure out how it happens or why.”
“You know what I think?” Her voice was a shaky whisper. “I think one of us is insane, and I’m not going to stick around to see if it’s you.” She turned and fled the room.
As she ran down the hallway, her fingers brushed against silver-and-blue-striped wallpaper, reminiscent of gift wrap.
I need to get back to the party and unwrap my presents.
Hurrying down a curved staircase, Oona caught flashes of modern paintings in primary colors and a chandelier made of bicycle parts. She ended up in a marble-tiled foyer facing an eight-foot mirror. Its reflection made her gasp.
What is this?
An overweight middle-aged woman gaped at her. When Oona put her hand up to her face, so did the woman. And when Oona turned her body this way and that, the woman mimicked her gestures. It was like she’d been transported to a sadistic fun house.
This can’t be me.
The face was older but unmistakably Oona’s. The skin along her jaw sagged, parentheses-shaped grooves lined either side of her mouth, and her once-pouty lower lip was deflated. Her nose looked larger and her hazel eyes had crow’s feet. There was no gray in her hair, but it was less lustrous and dyed blond.
“Oh my god, I’m old.”
“You’re not that old. You’re just not … young,” Kenzie said behind her, then shuffled back at her terror-glazed stare.
“I can’t be here anymore. I have to go somewhere … else. I have to find Dale.”
“Look, I know this is all cray, but—”
“Cray?”
“Crazy—god, I’m giving you the worst of modern culture tonight.” He uttered a frustrated growl. “I’m fucking this whole thing up. You warned me it was gonna be tough, but I was all, ‘I got this.’ I shouldn’t have been so dismissive. But now that we’re here, please stay. Take a minute to process. I’ll tell you what I can about—”
“No. I’m leaving.” Even a nightmare would allow you to exert some control, wouldn’t it? If she couldn’t wake up yet, at least she could go somewhere else. She went to open the door, but the handle wouldn’t budge. Of course.
“Am I locked in?” A glare like a laser beam directed at Kenzie.
He ran a hand through his hair, scattering the perfect wave of it. “2014 You thought it would be better to spend some time in this house. You know, acclimate a little before you went out and saw what else has changed.”
She let out a disgusted chuckle. “I don’t know what that means. Just let me out.” Eyes darting, they settled on a large glass vase; she’d use it if she needed a weapon.
“I wish you’d reconsider. But I won’t keep you a prisoner in your own house.”
“My house?” Her head snapped up, and she took a fresh look around. “Nope. I’ve never been here before.” She tugged on the door handle again. “And I don’t want to be here now. Please unlock the door.” Her words were meant to be assertive, but they sounded more like pleading.
“Can I come with? I don’t want you to get lost.”
“No way.”
Kenzie darted into a side room and came out with a long black coat and red leather handbag. “At least take these with you? Your wallet is inside with your address, so you’ll be able to find your way back. Your phone is in there, too—it’s silver, about the size of your hand—hell knows if you’ll be able to figure out how to use it,” he muttered and handed her a slip of paper. “That’s my number and the security code for the front door, but I’ll be here.”
The second digits on the paper caught her eye: 0628. Dale’s birthday. Where was Dale, anyway?
She slipped on the coat and took the bag. It was time to find him.
As she stepped across the threshold, a frigid gust of wind hit her like a slap in the face.
“Please don’t wander too far,” Kenzie said. “If you get lost, call me.”
“Yeah, right,” Oona called over her shoulder, intent on never seeing him again.
3
Outside, Oona bolted down a short flight of steps, mystified at her sore knees. A quick backward glance at her supposed house. This was where she lived? This miniature-castle-looking brownstone? Uh-uh. She and Dale were supposed to settle down in a SoHo loft, a raw expanse they’d turn into a giant living/creative space. No way would she end up in such a stately abode. Of course, it might not be true. Not this house or anything else Kenzie told her. She still didn’t know the real story. She barely knew the first sentence.
A curtain on the first floor fluttered, revealing an anxious Kenzie peeking through the window. Oona waved him away and began to walk as a merciless wind whipped around. Her fingers grazed the edge of the envelope in her pocket. A letter sure to contain bad news.
Forget the letter. I need to find Dale.
The block contained nothing but other brownstones, some with gaslights out front, creating an effect more antiquated than futuristic.
2015? I don’t think so.
But the cars were more modern and streamlined than the ones she was familiar with. Less angular. Some more compact, others significantly larger, the vans and station wagons she’d known having received a sophisticated makeover.