The Outsiders: Before My Time Part III

Tulsa, 2038

Goldie Curtis's POV
June 5, 2038

You're going to think I am insane. Maybe I am, but it does not take from the fact that this actually happened. I'm old enough to recognize the difference between reality and fantasy, so I refuse to be told that this is just my imagination or a dream. If it was a dream, I certainly would not have my little siblings in it with me.

Nothing got past my parents. Not even sneaking out in the middle of the night to celebrate the end of my senior year. I was a varsity football player, a team captain, and I'd spent the last year dodging defensive linemen on the field. I thought navigating the shadows of my own hallway would be a walk in the park. My teammate, Miller, had cut his headlights and coasted his car to a silent stop at the edge of our curb to drop me off like a tactical getaway driver, allowing me to slip out into the night unnoticed. Coming back from a party where the music had been pounding for hours made our house feel unnaturally, deeply quiet. The kind of dead silence where your own heartbeat echoes in your ears. I crept through the darkness of the hallway to my room, trailing my hand flat against the smooth drywall to steady my footing as I aimed for my door.

Maybe I was a little louder than I thought. When I eased my bedroom door open, my stomach dropped. I was face-to-face with my mother. She was standing on the other side. She had her fluffy pink robe on, arms crossed, and her foot was tapping in disappointment. As a criminal psychologist, her deadpan stare was utterly lethal.

Faced with her interrogation, my immediate instinct was to start over-explaining to cover my tracks. Having a few drinks at the party always made me a notorious yapper, and even though I tried to keep a tight lid on it tonight, the words were already starting to spill out a mile a minute as I scrambled for an alibi. Standing under the harsh light while trying to construct a lie instantly killed whatever warm buzz I had leftover from the party. I tried to turn around, but my father was standing right behind me. All he said was, "hope it was a fun night, kiddo, because you won't be having another one of those for a while."

That's how I got stuck cleaning the attic.

Candy was as sweet as her name. She is the most like my father—very caring, lovable, and optimistic. That's one thing I admired about my little sister. But she can be annoying, as all little sisters are. She was sent up to join me in cleaning the attic when my parents found out that she lost $20 that they gave her for lunch. I think it fell out of her pocket on her way to a friend's house, but they wanted to give her a lesson on responsibility.

The youngest, Red, could be a little hot head. He's got some spunk that I find hilarious. His hair is naturally red, to match his fiery personality and name. He got into some trouble for cheating on—and still failing—a history test, so up to the attic he went.

It really doesn't matter how we all got there, but we all sat together in that dusty attic to clean it. Pops says that it should take us the whole weekend. Already it was miserable, and just as interesting as it sounds. There was just garbage up there and junk that my parents never threw away. It was not going to be duck soup.

Candy has always had a knack for enjoying antiques. Once when we were on a road trip as a family, she made us pull over to an antique store. She ended up buying a vintage smart-phone. By some miracle, it turned on for about five seconds before never coming back to life again. Mom said we had to charge it, using something called a cable. She showed us the hole where the charger would enter the phone. I thought that was so strange. How did my parents live through such caveman times?

Candy was having a blast, going through our parent's old stuff in the attic. This probably wasn't the kind of punishment my parents were hoping to achieve. There were lots of dusty photos with my folks growing up together in Tulsa. They were high school sweethearts. Candy kept trying to show me, and, I leaned into the chaos by playfully wrestling a box of old vinyl records out of her hands and tousling her hair to keep her moving. I wanted to get this place clean so Mom and Dad would let me out tonight, but I couldn't help matching my sister's bubbling energy. If I wasn't so focused on getting to the party tonight, I probably would have been a little more intrigued on how much Tulsa has changed over the past few decades.