Regina stops the car behind a dark red box-shaped truck. A man is in the driver's seat, a woman is in the passenger's, and there are three teenagers in the back. The red light shines through our windshield, and we watch other cars turn through traffic when their lights turn green.

She sniffles for the fourth time in less than fifteen seconds.

It was strange how late she showed her emotions. When she got in the car, she had this blank expression, but her eyes flickered and her head would bob to the side like she was dozing off.

It wasn't until we reached the building and saw him talking to another girl did she burst into hysterics. Her loud reaction scared me, but I knew I had to calm her down. If not, we'd have crashed by now.

Her shoulders jerk forward with each suppressed cry. It sounds like she's sputtering, trying to keep her cool.

"'Gina," I call her, my voice lower than a whisper. Her right hand's fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and she sets her other elbow on the windowsill to rest her head on the outside of her left hand's curled fingers.

I swallow my spit and it scrapes my dry throat. I take a breath of the air pouring in from her window, but before I can speak, she mumbles, "Raven was right." I just stare at her with my lips apart. She shakes her head and scoffs like she's starting to understand something. "She told me he had a reputation, and I told her so many times, in so many ways, that he's the dopest guy ever."

Our light turns green, but she doesn't straighten her posture as she drives behind the truck.

I've never dealt with a breakup. It's really impossible to be dumped if you've never dated anyone.

I think about Keenan. For a moment, I wish he was here to talk to her because he's technically older and was married in his past life. That wish goes away fast, though. If he were here, he'd tell her it's her fault for dating at fifteen and that relationships are too temporary to get upset over.

"What reputation does he have?" She scoffs and shakes her head again. We pass the Domino's where her friends work. The lights are on in the dining area and around the parking lot, where there are four cars parked in front of the building.

"Allegedly, he has a rotation of girlfriends. While he was dating one girl, he had another one in another state," Regina says matter-of-factly.

I tilt my head while narrowing my eyes, and I ask, "How could he have another girlfriend in another state? How would he have even met her?"

"Apparently, they met through a bulletin," she says, and I squint in thought. I imagine him riding down a street in the afternoon and seeing her face on a bulletin board with her name and number above her head. I scrunch my face and shake my head, thankful that times have changed. "His grandma bought a computer, and while he was staying at her place, he went on this bulletin website."

My eyes narrow again, and my mouth falls open. I stare at the orange and red strobes from traffic lights and street lamps. We pass a few gas stations and corner stores where only a few people seem to be.

The streets aren't as busy as they usually are in 2023.

"What if he was dating someone else while he was with you?" She whips her head to me and sits up straight. Her eyes are wide, like I threatened to steer us off the road.

"Leila, why would you ask me that? Why would you even think something like that?" Her voice is squeaky, and her eyes dart from me to the road. I take a breath to defend myself, but it lodges in my throat like an unchewed meatball when she interrupts me and says, "God, Leila, sometimes I wonder if you purposely say or do things to antagonize me. He would never cheat on me."

I only asked because the thought came to mind. I didn't mean to offend her, but maybe thinking about the possibility of him seeing other girls could help her get over him.

I watch her forehead creasing and the corners of her mouth twitching downward.

Maybe it's too soon to put those ideas in her head.

"Okay," I mumble while nodding once. "I'm sorry."

She doesn't respond or look at me. I pull my lips into my mouth and lick them, my attention slowly turning to the road.

I stare out of my closed window, watching the sky light up with stars. They appear in droves like residents flickering on their porch lights, and I bring my eyebrows together at the sight.

Regina turns on the radio and flips through stations. There's static, country, and a few rock-and-roll songs before she reaches talk radio.

"...and in a shocking turn of events, teen idols Milli Vanilli, who were caught last year lipsyncing during a live performance of their hit song, Girl You Know It's True, were outted a few days ago by their record producer as not being the voices behind the song." I whip my head toward the radio, my eyes widening as the woman speaks. "According to insiders, the duo are expected to return their Grammy later on this year."

Regina and I lift our heads at the same time and stare at each other. Her mouth slowly falls open, and her shoulders rise to her ears like she's seconds from screaming at the top of her lungs.

My jaw is practically in my lap and my eyebrows up to my hairline. What do I say? What do I do?

A truck blasts its horn, and we flinch, focusing on the road. A red pickup truck speeds past us in the opposite direction as Regina steers us back into our lane. Both of her hands are on the top of the wheel, her thumbs almost touching.

My fingers twitch and sweat pools in the cracks of my palms. What do I say?

The woman goes on and on about other pop culture news, but it goes in one ear and out the other. Regina pulls along the side of the road near a fire hydrant, then shuts off the engine.

I lean forward to look around the neighborhood. I can tell by the blue suburban houses that we're close to ours, but I don't know how far we are. None of the cars or yard furniture look familiar.

I peel my eyes off the empty road to watch her. Her back is straight, and her arms are as stiff as she is.

"'Gina," I call for her with a shaky, low voice while dragging the last letter in her name. Her mouth is still open. If she wasn't blinking, I'd have thought that she froze.

"You're," she begins, but stops herself. She shakes her head, the crease between her eyebrows becoming more defined. "This whole time." I swallow, and it briefly slams against the lump forming in my throat. Regina scoffs, then shakes her head again before looking at me. "You're a — you're — what are you?"

I wish I had that pen from Men in Black.

I wish Keenan was here. Keenan.

My eyes widen and my nostrils flare. I stare at the starry sky, and my heart thumps against my chest.

"'Gina, we gotta get home now or Mom and Dad will find out we snuck out." I rush the words out of my mouth along with a speck of spit that lands on the dashboard.

"They're not your parents." I turn to her, lowering my eyebrows. "They're not your parents, I'm not your sister, Michelle isn't your sister, and Keenan isn't your cousin."

"Regina, we don't have time for this," I say over her, but she just keeps rambling. From my peripheral, I see a ball of light shoot past us. I turn at the hips and watch the sky. A few stars are missing.

"Who are you and where'd you come from," she asks me again, but I don't respond. A cluster of stars tear away from the deep blue sky and fly in the direction we're headed. Then another speeds down the road behind us, and one more forward.

It's like watching clumps of hair falling.

"Listen," I say, my voice shaking. I bring my eyes to hers which are filled with tears. "Regina, we need to get home," I tell her as sternly as I can in this moment, but only a smidge of authority comes out. She shakes her head at me, but I know it's in disbelief, not defiance. A shadow casts across us in the blink of an eye, so I purse my lips with my eyes shut. I take a few deep breaths as goosebumps rush up and down my arms. I call her name, and when she whines something I can't understand, my eyes shoot open, and I throw my hands onto her shoulders. "I know you have a lot of questions; believe me, I do; but now's not the time! We — have — to — go! I swear, I'll explain it all when we get there."

We stare into each other's eyes with nothing but our out-of-sync breaths as sound.

My arms tremble, but I hold her shoulders until she raises her hand. I bring my hands to my lap as she wipes the tears from her eyes and chin. Without looking away from me, she turns the key, and the car cranks on. The woman's voice returns, so I quickly shut off the radio, and we ride in silence.

Another shadow casts across the front of the car like a giant bird flying south for winter. I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees to get a better look, and my eyebrows drop along with my eyelids.

The sky is full of stars racing in multiple directions. Some are white, some flame-blue, and others an autumn-orange. Each of them is shaped like a ball engulfed in flames, with the fire straight behind the ball like a tail.

They're like jets as they soar past each other.

We reach the house, but before she turns the wheel to drive into the garage, I take off my seatbelt and jump out of the car. I leave the door open as I trip over my feet, rushing for the door.

The living room light is on, so obviously they're awake. None of that matters right now. I need to get the clothes I came here with and find Keenan.

I push open the door, and my heart drops to my stomach when I see my parents sitting in the living room with Keenan.

Dad's in his recliner with one foot resting on the other knee and his hands interlaced on his stomach.

Mom's sitting close to him on the sofa with her arms and legs crossed.

And Keenan's sitting on the other couch with his head bowed like a dog in trouble.

He's wearing the clothes he time-traveled in. His t-shirt and jeans are ironed and smell like laundry detergent, and the mud on his gray sneakers is gone.

"You and your sister must think your lives are a movie, huh?" I take my eyes off Keenan when Dad speaks. "Grand theft auto," he says, "that's new."

The door slams shut, so I look over my shoulder to see Regina cutting her eyes at me.

"'Gina, where'd you take your father's car," Mom asks when Regina steps beside me. She and I share a glance before focusing on our parents.

I look at Keenan again, then raise my palm to gesture at him. I ask, "What's he doing here," and stutter through the first word.

Mom and Dad glance at him at the same time, like they've forgotten that he's sitting there.

"He swung by to see you, actually," Dad says through a fake smile. My bottom lip shakes, so I pull it into my mouth. "Now, why he's out of bed this late at night, I don't know; he won't tell us a thing."

"Where did you two go?" Each word is like a small jab, but we don't answer. I don't know about Regina, but the moment I saw them with Keenan, my mouth started pooling. It's like when someone's about to vomit and, for some reason, their mouth fills with drool.

"Looks like we have two mutes, 'Reesa." He drops his foot and hands to grip his chair's arms. All eyes fall on him as he pushes himself up. I step aside as he approaches and bump into Regina, my eyes big and fidgety. He stops in front of us, and I bring my hand to my mouth. My teeth cling to my hangnail as I stare into the dark eyes that were once kind and full of love. "'Gina, give me the keys," he says without looking away from me. She extends her hand with the key between two fingers, and he takes it from her. "'Reesa, I'll be right back. I need to check the odometer."

He steps around us, and Regina turns to watch him.

"Dad," she whines as he opens the door. The two of them step onto the porch, and she shuts the door behind them.

Mom stares at the television screen, listening to a white lady with dark brown hair give the forecast in front of a green screen.

"Can I talk to Keenan," I ask behind my finger. Finally, he looks over his glasses and flicks his eyes from me to her and back.

"No," she says in a sharp tone, like it was a stupid question. "He's heading home when your dad comes back."

"Mom, please," I whine, dropping my arm at my side. "It's an emergency. Me and 'Gina didn't get into any trouble, and I know it  may not matter, but it's true." She shakes her head while watching TV. Keenan purses his lips. "Please, can I speak to him for a second?"

He and I stare at each other, then at her. She's quiet, but blinking a few times like she doesn't hear us.

Keenan looks at me, and I open my mouth to call for her.

"Fifteen seconds, Leila," she says, and I hold my breath. I stare at Keenan as he takes his eyes off her to look at me. He jumps up and follows me down the hall to my room.

He closes the door behind us, and I rush to my dresser, pulling open the drawers.

"Leila, where were you," he whisper-yells. I toss random t-shirts and blouses over my shoulders. When I don't find the gray, graphic t-shirt in one drawer, I shut it and rummage through another.