In Six Years' Time

Sharing is Caring

"What?" Jenson asked when he noticed I was still staring at him. "I said 'thank you.'"

I stumbled over my words, nervously laughing. "Oh, no, sorry. Ever since my wreck I've been having a hard time remembering things. You're... Jenson, right?"

"Yeah." He answered briskly, but realizing I wasn't letting it go he sighed. "Listen, Talia. We didn't talk. We weren't friends. Thanks for the pencil, I'll return it after class."

"Don't worry about it, keep it." I mumbled, turning to face the front again.

He was so closed off. And kind of rude. But I couldn't help but think maybe he was bullied? Why else would he shoot up a school? That's what all the news sources said. "Jenson Black, bullied teen brings gun to school and kills students and faculty." I remember the uproar about how the students were mad he was labeled as a 'misunderstood teen with mental issues' instead of what he really was.

A terrorist.

Jenson Black was a full blown terrorist. He got off easy because he was a white kid, but had he been anything else, he would have been properly punished.

It was scary to know you're sitting in front of a school shooter. He hadn't done it yet, maybe haven't even thought of it yet. If I recall, the shooting didn't happen until a week before graduation. No one wanted to walk the stage after such a tragedy, so we all received our diplomas in the mail, and we moved on, putting the year behind us. Some never stopped thinking about those who wouldn't walk.

I racked my brain on the kids that were killed. I didn't talk to any of them. But they all had lives and families.

This is what my redo is really about. I selfishly came back to save Kace, but I had the opportunity to save more. I could fix everything. What about all the national disasters I watched on the news? There had been several school shootings. Could I remember all of their names? The times, the locations?

The rest of school blew by with me in a haze. A few times a well meaning teacher would stop me and ask how I was feeling. I mumbled an excuse about my head hurting and several suggested I stop by the nurses. But I had a lot more on my plate and couldn't afford to skip school.

It wasn't until I, literally, ran into Molly again that I had an idea.

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry." I muttered when we collided. She didn't fall, but her books did, clattering to the ground in the middle of the crowded hallway. I bent down to pick her books up, scrambling to grab them before a student stepped on them.

"Oh, Talia! Sorry, I didn't see you. Thanks," she gratefully took the books back, and I turned to walk with her. "How are you feeling today?"

I shook my hand to signal so-so. "I actually wanted to talk to you," I began, tucking a curl that had fallen over my eye behind my ear. "Do you have time after school? I'll be quick."

"Me?" She seemed surprised by the request, but quickly continued. "Yeah, sure! I have art club after school but I can let them know I'll be a little late." Art club. I hadn't known Molly liked art.

"Great, thanks so much. I promise I won't make you super late." We exchanged goodbyes and I turned to jog to my class before I was late.

When the final school bell rang, I gathered my things and almost sprinted out of the door. I still had months before the shooting, but this timeline was wonky. I knew from what I read or saw on television that any change in time could greatly affect the future. What if the pencil I lent him triggered the shooting early? Or what if a bully changed their crossing paths because I knocked Molly's books over and made them late? Anything could change, and I wanted to be ready.