The three of us are in my room. Michelle is sitting on the foot of my bed, Regina is sitting backward in my chair facing me, and I'm on the floor looking at her while Michelle braids my hair in cornrows.

She's been grilling me left and right about the fight with Melissa, but I refuse to tell her anything until I learn more about Melissa.

To me, I made it even. Yeah, my face is sore, but her nose is swollen and dark. After today, I don't think she'll ever bother me again.

"Can you just tell me what was said for you to knock her in the head with a basketball," Regina asks, and I shrug.

"It doesn't take much for Leila, Gina." The corners of Regina's mouth twitch as she struggles to keep her smile from dropping. "Remember that time she threw her bike at Keenan for mumbling something?"

"Yeah, I remember," she flatly answers. I crease my forehead from scrunching my face.

I can't see myself doing that because one: bikes are heavy, and two: I'm not violent; especially toward Keenan. So, I lick my lips, then I ask, "When was this?"

"It was last month, Hercules," Michelle says and in her voice, I can tell she's smiling. "You said he was running his mouth, so y'all argued, and because he walked away mumbling, you took your bike and threw it at him."

I'm staring at my socks as she tells me what I should remember, and when she finishes, I flick my eyes upward. They land on the once giddy, hazel-brown ones across the room, now staring at me like I'm a stranger.

Regina's overplucked eyebrows are drawn in and down, making her eyes appear sad.

"Since we're in the chatting mood, what's the deal with you two sneaking out?" Regina lowers her head and her expression remains the same.

I lick my lips and shrug, then I say, "We went to a party," and Gina jumps to her feet so fast she rattles my vanity.

"What's wrong, Gina?" She shakes her head at her and me, then turns to leave the room, but Michelle says, "Wait!" Regina stands at the open door with her back to us. "Tell me what's wrong."

She just stands there, shaking like she's either crying or about to explode into a fit of rage.

Is it because I didn't remember throwing a bike? I can't keep up with the life that the girl before me had. All I can remember is everything from November the eighth to now, but how do I explain that without blowing my cover?

"You know what?" Regina turns at the hips. "Alright, since you're now in my business," she says, storming toward the chair she almost knocked to the floor. She sits back down and says, "I have a boyfriend. We've been kicking it for three weeks now and unlike you, I'm not pregnant."

"Wait, you're pregnant?" I whip around to look at Michelle and she furrows her eyebrows at me.

"What? No, she's talking about a few years ago." I slowly face forward and Regina shakes her head at me. "Really, Gina? You're gonna bring that up knowing it still bothers me? Real classy."

"I just wonder what it turned out to be," she says, her eyes drifting onto the carpet. "Wherever it is."

They bicker like kids arguing over who's in the wrong, and I sit there with my eyes wide and my mouth shut.

Most of what they're saying is hard to understand, but from what I can piece together, Regina thinks Michelle will tell Mom and Dad everything because she's their informant. Michelle vehemently denies it through tears, but even I kinda think she's lying.

Is this what Keenan meant about causing unnecessary issues by sharing details that shouldn't be shared? I guess I can't fully blame myself since Regina already had issues with her.

"You act like you're for me, but all my life, you take what I tell you and run straight to them with it," Regina yells, and my hands and arms twitch. I want to cover my ears but I'm afraid to move.

Michelle takes my last patch in her fist, squeezing it with all of her strength. She's breathing heavily and her tears drip on my forehead.

"I only tell them what they need to know," she says, and I dig my nails into my carpet.

"Oh, and who are you to decide what they should or shouldn't know?" She raises her voice, and I wince.

"Your sister! The one who had that baby and had to give it away," Michelle yells. Regina rolls her eyes onto the wall to her left and shakes her head. "Everything I do, everything I say, every choice that I make, I think about everyone but me! What you see as ratting you out, I see as protecting you from the pain of having a child somewhere you'll never know!"

"Bullshit," Regina calmly says. Michelle scoffs. She swipes away her tears with a sniffle. "You act like you care, but you hardly come around. There were times when I needed you as a sister, as someone to talk to, and you were anywhere but here."

"Gina, I'm in college," Michelle tries to match her volume and tone, but her voice cracks.

"Yeah, I know," Regina screams, leaning forward in the chair. For the first time, I see her dark-brown skin turn a shade of red I never imagined it would. I watch a vein flash on the side of her neck and I slowly sink my back into the foot of the bed. "But yet you come here during your breaks and all you care about is Todd! Why didn't you just stay with him instead of wasting our time?"

That's either rhetorical or she doesn't care to hear the answer, because she jumps to her feet, and this time my chair falls onto its back. We watch her stomp out of the room with her fists balled up at her sides, her braids slamming everything behind her.

"Give me a second, Squeak," Michelle says under her breath as she releases my hair, and my shoulders relax. She sniffles as she rushes off the bed and sprints after her.

The arguing continues, and even though they're at the front of the house, their voices carry throughout the hall and the rest of the house. They scream so loud that if we were in apartments, our neighbors would have an earful. Honestly, I'd be surprised if those around us couldn't hear them.

***

I'm sitting in front of my vanity with my arms above my head. They're shaking as I struggle to braid that last patch, but no matter what, it doesn't look like how Michelle did the other ones.

Mom and Dad came home around the same time—he walked in a little after Mom and LaToya—and before I sat at the vanity, I watched him head to his room almost immediately.

Michelle and Regina are still going at it, and not even Mom can calm them down. I understand why he didn't bother.

"Gina, go to your room," Mom orders her. "I'll deal with you in a second."

I hear her approach, marching like she's ready for war. As I unravel the braid, she bursts into my room, and my thumbs get caught in my hair.

"Don't say a word, Leila." She's stern and cold-faced. Regina shuts the door and balls up her fists. I want to apologize but I can't. "Who are you?"

I look left, right, and center without moving my head. In a mumble, I say, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Halfway through my response, she yanks my basket of hair accessories from in front of me and I flinch, dropping my arms. She lunges it across the room, gnashing her teeth and grunting. I watch the beads fly and scatter around my bed.

Then she slams her palms on the surface, stealing my attention. Huffing and puffing she says, "Don't play with me. Who are you?"

Her hazel eyes are soulless yet filled with rage that I'm not used to. It seems out of the norm for her.

"I'm a time traveler from the year twenty-twenty-three." The words rush from my mouth before I can think about the consequences.

I think about Keenan and how he'll soon react when I tell him. I don't want to tell him, but I don't have a choice. He knows more about this than me, and what if he's right? What if men in coats take us in the middle of the night? What if this changes historical events?

She narrows her eyes at me and scoffs.

"You must think I'm stupid." She shakes her head at me with a look of disbelief. My eyes widen as she reaches for something else, and my nostrils flare.

"Wait, I can prove it!" She squeezes the handle of my paddle brush in one hand and taps it on her other palm like a baseball bat.

I scan the room, my stomach churning and my mind blank. My heart is pounding like it too wants to escape the room.

"What's today," I ask, my voice shaking and my mouth becoming dry.

"Wednesday." She takes a deep breath.

"Yeah, but, what day." She shrugs and scrunches her face at me.

"The fourteenth, Leila." I lower my head in thought. I try to remember what I learned in history class, but of course, the teachers only discussed the Civil War and that decade.

"You know the band Milli Vanilli?" She slowly nods, narrowing her eyes. "People are gonna find out they were - are - lipsyncing on the sixteenth."

I saw a YouTube video about it, maybe, a month before the Leonid shower. It was a compilation of failed and disbanded groups dating back to the eighties.

"How do you know?" She sounds mostly unconvinced, but her grip is loosening. I can tell because her fingers are returning to their normal color.

"Again, I'm from the year twenty-twenty-three," I say in a low voice. She sits up straight, licks her lips, and stares down her nose at me.

"You better be telling the truth." She tosses my brush in front of me, then turns her back to me. My stomach gurgles when she opens the door, so she glances at me. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

I nod, she nods back, then leaves my room.

***

I zip my book bag with my back to the door. We had dinner, and Michelle finished my hair, but the house was - and is - thick with tension.

During dinner, Michelle and Regina cut their eyes at each other. Mom or Dad tried to clear the air by talking about their day, but nothing changed their attitudes. I tried to eat, but I was so uncomfortable, that my jaw practically locked.

I turn around while slinging the bookbag onto my back, but I can only get one arm in when I see Regina leaning against my doorframe.

She's wearing black highrise jorts and a plain, cinnamon-brown t-shirt. Her makeup is different too. Her lips are lined with a thin, brown pencil; she gave herself winged eyeliner, lipgloss, and heavy, silver eyeshadow.

"You're full of shit, Leila." Her voice is cool and collected, which scares me more than her screaming does. She's holding her brick cell phone in her right hand like a cigarette. Her other arm is strewn across her stomach, with her right elbow resting on her hand.

"What do you mean?" I slowly slide my other arm through the strap, furrowing my eyebrows.

"I called Khadijah, and she said Milli Vanilli been got caught for lipsyncing and that it happened last year," she says, and my stomach drops. I take a shaky and shallow breath, then I shift my weight to my other foot.

"Okay, so I got the date wrong," I start to say, but she stands up straight, jerks her arm back, and launches her phone at me. I cringe, squeezing my legs and arms together.

"I can't believe I bought that Back to the Future bullshit," she aggressively whispers. The phone slams into my hip with a thud but has a softer fall.

Still curled up, I glare at her from the top of my eyes. I feel my heart hammering against my chest and my body vibrating.

This feeling of volcanic rage sends me back to yesterday with Melissa, and it sucks because I don't want to hurt anyone.

But Regina's making me want to change my mind.

I want to grab the phone and throw it at her like a baseball, but I can't bring myself to bend down and start the chain of events.

So, I just ask, "Well, what do you want, Regina?" She huffs and puffs, her face sour. I drop my arms and loosen my posture, my expression blank. "You wanna know why I can't remember anything? You wanna know why I don't act the way that you remember?" She flares her nostrils with a deep breath, then nods. I smirk, crossing my arms. "I don't know, Regina. No one else but you is complaining, so maybe you're the one acting strange."

"Are you serious?" I pout and shrug, but my mood changes when she grabs my basket from the vanity.

I stick out my hands and widen my eyes, knowing she's about to undo the hours I spent scavenging for beads, clips, and rubber bands.

"Wait!" I raise my voice, and she listens. She's holding it over her shoulder with huge, manic eyes. Looking at her, it's not funny anymore. I can tell my unfamiliarity is driving her insane, and, honestly, I'd feel the same way, but it feels deeper than having a stranger in your house, so I ask, "Gina, what's really wrong?"