“...it just seems like some weird science fiction crap.”
“I liked the Lost episode,” I blurted out, hoping Josephine hadn’t noticed I completely spaced out while she was talking.
Josephine handed me one of her tacos. I didn’t originally get any food for myself, fearing all the time travel and end of the world talk would leave me feeling queasy, but the truth was talking about it left me feeling like for the first time since the start of the weekend I had my feet on the ground. I was moving toward the end, and that felt better than waiting for the end to come to me.
“Yeah. I kept thinking of that episode after Mr. Ambiguous said that thing about that world being our present but not the present we were used to.”
I nodded. “It kind of reminded me of this guy we talked about in English class. He was like this big literary critic or theorist or something. His name was Ricouer. At least that’s what I think his name was. He talked about how when you read a story whatever part you are reading is your present, no matter if it’s the character’s past or present.”
Josephine dumped half of her chips onto my now empty taco wrapper. “Ricouer? Damn, QB1, you are way smarter than I ever gave you credit for. And now you’re actually blushing.”
“I am not.”
Was I? Smart was not an adjective often connected to my name.
“It does kind of make the whole present comment make sense. So add that to the Lost theory—”
“Wait. So, when we’re in the other world, the future world, that’s our present? Meaning, if we are going by the Asian dude’s rant, we can like die and stuff in Mr. Ambiguous’ world?”
“Yeah. I think whatever happens there happens,” Josephine replied. “Why else would creepers keep warning us about all the dangers? I think when we go back we’ll have to be careful.”
“How do we go back?” I asked.
“That’s a good question to add to the list of really good questions.”
I sighed. “Why us?”
“I don’t know.”
Neither of us talked for a while after that. Josephine crumpled up her trash and placed it back onto the tray. I followed suit. I wasn’t feeling so hungry anymore either. I got up and dumped the tray. When I returned Josephine had her hood back up covering her head, having removed it when we first sat down.
“To be honest, I don’t understand a damn thing we’re talking about,” Josephine said quietly, pushing her half empty cup back and forth between her hands.
I sighed. Not out of frustration or even confusion; I sighed out of relief. “Me either. I don’t understand any of this. I keep replaying it all in my head. I mean that stuff seemed like it was out of some damn movie played...”
“...on the Sci-Fi channel late at night?”
I nodded. “How is something like this even possible? I mean was it a one time thing? Did we miss our chance to change it? How could we change it? We’re just teenagers”
For some reason I felt my eyes begin to itch. I wildly thought of how easy and nice it would be to give into the fear. I wanted to lock myself and Jenna in my room and wait for it all to end. I was a screw-up, a joke, a high school athlete who would probably fulfill every stereotype ever written about my kind—I would end up fat, divorced, and working some piss poor job I hated.
Whoever had chosen me must have wanted the world to end.
My only hope of getting through this was the girl in front of me. The same girl who just admitted she had no idea what was going on either. The same girl the entire football team was convinced spent her afternoons cutting herself or fulfilling all my dark and deviant sexual needs.
“I don’t know what of any of it means.”
“Great.” I replied.
“Would you rather we go back to talking time travel theories and pretending we have any control of this?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’d rather we go back to that.”
“All right. I brought you something else to watch.”
“Oh yeah?”
Josephine reached down in her bag and pulled out a copy of season one of Dr. Who.
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me Mr. Denial.”
As I walked Josephine to her car, despite complaints she was strong enough to take care of herself and didn’t need my assistance, I couldn’t stop myself from asking: “Who are you trying to save?”
“Myself,” she replied without any hesitation.
“Well, it seems like we are immune to whatever sickness took the rest of them out. I think you make it.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh,” I replied, standing awkwardly by her car.