Dad walked Troy out of the woods with anger clear on his face. He didn't say much, but from what he said—telling Troy to follow him back to the crowd—I could tell he didn't like him being around me.

"Are you okay," Keenan asks me.

I pace back and forth with my arms crossed and my head down. I wanna tell him everything. My stomach flips, and a rush of butterflies swarm around in my chest.

He walks toward a tree, so tall and wide it can house little people, and he leans his back against it.

"Is it true," I ask him. He scrunches his forehead and narrows his eyes. I stop pacing and take a deep breath that shudders when I exhale.

"Is what true?" He'd given me his rain hat since I let mine float away, and he pulled his hood over his head. Water thumps the top and pools around the brim like it did mine. That's the only noise we have.

"Is Regina — dead?" I stutter on the last word. Even saying it makes my legs wobble.

I don't know why I'm asking, honestly. What else could make her parents cry after going to Khadijah's house?

He blinks and his head jerks back. "Leila, what're you talking about?"

My eyes well up, so I pace back and forth again. My upper legs hurt like I was lifting cinderblocks on both and my toes feel like ants are attacking them.

"Before I — y'know, came out here with Troy, I saw Teresa and Joseph talking." He relaxes his face to give me an empty stare. I know it's because I didn't say Mom and Dad. So, I firmly tell him, "They're not my parents," and he shakes his head as he lowers his eyes onto his shoes. I take another breath and lick my lips. "Anyway, he started crying, then she started crying."

"They were upset because Regina ran away, not because she's dead," he says with no emotion in his voice.

I stop walking and stare at his boots. The sides are smudged with mud, but the material is so shiny that if I were closer, I could see my reflection.

I lift my hand to the back of my head and neck, dragging my nails back and forth in thought.

It doesn't make sense. None of this makes any sense.

"Well," I stammer. My mouth doesn't want me to speak, but voices in my head that sound like mine are screaming at me to tell him everything. "What happened at Khadijah's house?"

"I don't know everything. I mean, your dad," he stops speaking when I finally look at him. His eyes flick between mine like he's reading my emotions, and then he rolls his eyes and sighs. "Leila, what happened?"

I quickly cross my arms and turn away from him. I mumble, "I don't know what you're talking about," and march through the mud toward the creek.

I hear sloshing and his breath close behind me.

"Stop," he tells me, and I shake my head. The voices are louder. I try to focus on the sound of the rain, but it doesn't do much.

"I don't," I start to say that I don't know what happened, but he interrupts me.

"Stop," he yells, and I flinch. Birds flutter their wings overhead like his voice is powerful enough to scare them off. We stand at the creek's edge near the log with my back to him as I face the other side of the water. "Tell me what happened. Now."

Don't.

If you don't, you'll only make things worse.

How much worse can things get? I have to figure this out myself.

You don't know the first thing about time traveling or how to ravel what was unraveled. Talk to him and he can fix it.

Yeah, and while he's fixing it, he'll give you a mile-long lecture about how unreliable you are, and how he was right to not trust you. If you keep this to yourself, and just fix it before tomorrow, you'll be fine. He may even think you're mature for knowing how to handle it yourself.

Even though the wind is blowing and raindrops fall down my neck, my insides feel hot. It's like I'm burning in my stomach and the feeling slowly spreads throughout my body.

I lift my arms to look at my hands and they tremble in the air. I imagine the inside of my skin turning reddish-orange like the metal in a toaster because that's what it feels like.

I drop my arms and my eyelids droop. As I turn to him, my heart pounds faster and faster, and when we look at each other, it skips a beat.

Then I open my mouth, but only air comes out.

Don't tell him.

He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms.

"What'd you do," he asks, and finally those voices stop. I relax my jaw and my mouth slowly closes. His question and raised eyebrow tell me he knows I messed up somehow.

I wish the mud was quicksand so I wouldn't have to answer him.

"Promise me you won't get mad," I mumble and he nods. I raise my eyebrows and toss up my arms, letting them slam back against my sides."No, you have to promise me, Keenan."

"Alright, fine, I promise." I bring my hands in front of me and scratch the tip of my thumb's nail. "What is it?"

"Regina—ran away because—her parents are divorcing." I hesitate with almost every word and the closer I get to the worst part, the lower my voice comes out. With my head down, I mumble, "And they're divorcing because of me."

He tilts his head to look me in the eyes, and in a soft voice, he asks, "What do you mean?"

"Where do I start?" As I lift my head, I take a deep breath and it's shaky when I exhale. "Okay, remember when I got in trouble for sneaking out?" He nods again. "Well, Regina's mom was furious about that and, ever since, it's like she hates me. I think she's more mad at the fact that I lied to cover Regina when she caught us sneaking back in the house." He slowly drops his arms and blinks a few times faster. "Anyway, after the fight with Melissa, Regina's mom and dad got into an argument, and it ended with her saying she wants a divorce."

"So, what," he starts, speaking with one hand. "Regina heard that and ran away?"

"Well, no, um, she was in school." My eyes flick off of his and no matter how far he leans over, I can't look at him. My heart is pounding and the feeling of ants attacking my feet is getting worse. My legs twitch whenever I think about it. I continue picking at my nail and I mumble, "I may have told Michelle at the dinner table and since Regina was sitting with us, she obviously heard it."

"Leila," he says in a forceful way like he's disappointed in me.

I drop my arms and say, "No, you don't understand," and he rolls his eyes at me. He walks around me to the log and sits with his back to where I'd let my hat float away. "They were being rude to each other and Michelle was asking what was going on and they kept ignoring her."

"What does that have to do with you?" He doesn't have any emotion in his voice anymore and doesn't look at me.

"Nothing, but what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to watch her be ignored?" He scoffs and shakes his head, but I know it's not him answering me. I step closer while rubbing the sides of my skirt, thinking I'm wearing jeans. I slowly lower myself next to him and mumble, "You promised you wouldn't get mad."

"Yeah, and believe it or not, I'm not mad." Keenan gives this weird chuckle and looks at me. My eyes bounce from one of his to the other, going back and forth. "But, you know what? This isn't the worst that could happen."

I blink back and furrow my eyebrows.

This isn't the worst?

"Really? Are you sure, because," I stop talking when he lifts his hand dismissively.

"Trust me, I've seen worse," he says nonchalantly. I let my lips sit apart. He looks ahead as he speaks and scratches his forehead with his thumb. "I remember one time I was in the eighties, and I kept slipping up and mentioning things that hadn't happened yet, and eventually, I started seeing things."

"Seeing things?" He turns his head to me.

"Yeah, teachers with all-white eyes; two-headed dogs; stuff like that." My face relaxes and my shoulders slump forward. Judging by his tone when he says, "But as long as you're not seeing stuff like that, we should be fine," he doesn't notice my reaction. He takes a deep breath as he returns his attention to the rain hitting the water in front of us. "Hopefully, we'll find Regina before tomorrow, and somehow, convince her your parents aren't divorcing. I think us being here is affecting everyone, somehow, making them hate each other."

I don't respond and he doesn't say anything else. Instead, we sit for a few beats, listening to the rain meeting the creek in loud plops. The water rises and sweeps mud off the foot part of our boots. He runs his hands up and down his knees like a parent before they excuse themselves from someone's house, then he stands up, and it's like I suddenly found my voice.

"What does it mean if we see things that aren't there," I ask after he steps back in the mud.

"I don't really know," he says with his attention on his shoes. He scrapes and scrapes the left against the log to remove chunks from between the cracks at the bottom of his boot. "I assumed it was the timeline bending because, like I said, I mentioned things that hadn't happened yet."

I take a breath to speak, but my dad calls for me, "Leila!"

Keenan drops his leg, and we look behind him to see Dad walking toward us with his hood over his head, and his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Uncle Joseph," he says in the same soft tone. He stops next to him. "I'm sorry for keeping her out here this long. We're actually about to head back."

"No need to apologize. I'd much rather it be you than that boy." Keenan purses his lips and we glance at each other before he looks past me and I look at Dad who's staring at me. "But I need you to come with me."

"Am I in trouble?" Me and Keenan share another glance. I set my hands on the log.

"No," he says like it's a crazy question, his eyebrows drawn in to match. I slowly push myself up. "That boy gave me an idea. He said to look through your sister's old yearbook and see if you can find the boy she supposedly is dating." Keenan slightly drops his jaw and exhales like he can't believe he didn't think of it first. "If you see his face and name, he can probably tell us where he lives."

"Does this mean we're going home?" I walk toward them and Dad turns away.

"Yes," he says. We follow him out of the forest with me to his right and Keenan to his left. "I already sent everyone but the immediate family on home, and the boy will be riding with us to the house."

***

We've been riding in Dad's station wagon for a while, but one thing about Troy is that he can make a long car ride feel short. He's been telling random stories and jokes. Some don't land, but I laugh anyway.

He's sitting behind Dad, Keenan's behind Mom, and I'm between them, but my attention is fully on Troy.

"So, after you were sent home, Melissa comes into our science class," he says, pointing his thumb and nudging his head at Keenan. "Her friends were talking to her, saying she should've fought you."

"Yeah, I'd like to see her try it." I turn my head to Keenan. "You know she hit me on purpose."

He throws his hands up without looking at me, signaling for me to keep him out of it. He's been like this for a while—staring out of the window—but I didn't pay him any mind. I figured he was thinking about Regina, or maybe he just doesn't like Troy.

"I believe you," Troy says, and his soft voice relaxes my face. I slowly lower my arms and glance at Keenan who's watching my dad watch us. I know if he could, he wouldn't bother glancing at the road and we'd be upside down in a ditch while he yells at us to keep our distance. 

Dad clears his throat and raises an eyebrow at us.

We quickly look in separate directions for the rest of the car ride.