Chapter 9
9
T his time, putting the headphones on was easy. The earring was like a sign that she needed to listen to more songs if she had any chance of understanding what was happening. Because as far as Sam could tell, she was being given the chance to see the answer to her biggest what-if about how her life could’ve been if only she’d kissed Damon that night.
Why this was happening was another mystery entirely. What Sam knew was that she had a magic CD player that transported her to an alternate version of the past, and each vision lasted the length of the song that played. Shortly after the song started, so did the vision, and when it ended, she was back to reality.
So she decided to treat this one differently. She knew what she was getting into, roughly, and needed to take in as much as she could before the song ended. She’d already listened to three out of the thirteen songs, so she’d make the most of the ten left.
She hit Play and closed her eyes as the quick strumming of The Offspring’s “Want You Bad” began. The song was, as the title suggested, about a guy who really wants the person he’s obsessing over.
Oh, sweet sassy hormones , Sam thought as the rush of air swept in along with a big drop. But she didn’t have time to revel in the weightlessness, because as soon as she landed in her new destination, she’d only have the time remaining on the player. She opened her eyes and glanced down—three minutes and five seconds left.
When she looked up, there was vinyl flooring beneath her feet, a stadium bench under her, and the squeak of rubber soles hitting the ground. She was in the gymnasium of her high school, and when she turned around, there was Alt-Sam hunched over a papier-maché garland.
“Valentine’s Day is less than a week away.”
Sam snapped back to the front where Mr. Meyer, the PE coach, stood with a clipboard. He walked toward the group as he said, “How’s my decoration committee doing?”
Ah, yes, Sam remembered volunteering for the Spirit Committee—basically a group of students who did free decor labor to celebrate holidays. She was a straight-A student, but thought more extracurriculars would improve her chances of a scholarship to flight school. The fact that it was only a few weeks of commitment sweetened the deal.
“Jeremy, put the iPod away, please.” Mr. Meyer nodded to a brick of an iPod sitting in a kid’s lap. Jeremy took off his headphones, and Sam heard “Want You Bad” playing through them before he turned the iPod off and tucked it into his backpack.
“We could use some snacks,” a slight girl with bronze gladiator sandals and a matching headband chirped back.
Mr. Meyer tapped his foot. “Copy that. Requests?”
A small chorus of answers came back, “Famous Amos!”
“Dunkaroos!”
“Doritos!”
“Fig Newtons!”
He jokingly placed his hands over his ears before turning and heading to the vending machines in the hall just outside the gym.
Okay, focus on the details , Sam told herself.
“Vampire girl!” There was Myles, the soccer jock who’d gone on to become Damon’s close friend. He jogged over to the bleachers. Alt-Sam looked up and scowled.
“Pass me my water bottle,” he shouted to her.
A girl in a velour tracksuit turned to eye Alt-Sam. “It’s right next to you,” she said.
Alt-Sam shrugged. “Vampires don’t help assholes, as it turns out.”
All six foot four of Myles pouted, like his feelings might actually be hurt. “Did you just call me an asshole?”
Alt-Sam rolled her eyes as she looked up at him. “Did you seriously call me a vampire?”
Myles stared at her then, but Alt-Sam just stared right back. Eventually, he reached behind her and grabbed the water bottle.
Okay, so in this life we have quite the backbone. A door slammed shut, and Damon’s unmistakable spiked hair popped into the gym.
“Your boyfriend’s here,” Myles said, almost like it was an insult.
Alt-Sam ignored Myles and stood from the bleachers, walking toward Damon. “What are you...?” she started to ask as Damon handed her a brown bag.
“My mom made that vegan brittle you like,” he said. “I saved you some.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Did you get out of detention early or something?”
Ah, Damon and his knack for getting into trouble. While Sam had always been about following the rules—school was one of the few stable places in her life—Damon didn’t like being told what to do. He seemed to get off on riling the teachers up, and averaged at least one detention a month for what Sam thought of as fairly silly things. He’d once gotten a detention for skipping class to get a Crunchwrap Supreme from Taco Bell. “It was funny,” he’d said at the time, but Sam just thought he was bored.
“I didn’t go to detention,” he eventually said.
Alt-Sam’s mouth opened to say something, but he interrupted her. “Don’t be mad. I just wanted to see you.”
“Your mom is going to be pissed when she finds out you skipped.” Alt-Sam unwrapped the brittle and broke off a corner. She spoke as she chewed. “And you better not tell her it was to see me.”
“I was actually thinking you could duck out early, too. We could... I don’t know. Go somewhere.” Damon raised a mischievous eyebrow.
“Jesus,” Sam said, trying to recall a time where she’d ever been this desperate for someone. “The hormones are strong in this one.”
The first time she’d ever kissed a guy was when she was twenty-two, but not in this timeline, where things were moving so fast she could hardly keep up.
“Mr. Meyer is trying to get snacks from the vending machine that always breaks. He’ll be there for a while. He won’t even notice you’re gone,” Damon tried again.
Alt-Sam softly smiled as she took another bite of brittle. “I don’t know. I volunteered. I should stay.” She glanced back to the group, where an a cappella version of “Single Ladies” by Beyoncé was being sung. “We haven’t decided on florals for the Say You’ll Be Mine pep rally yet.”
“Come on,” Damon said. “Tell them pansies, my mom’s favorite, and you can skip the sing-along just this once.”
Alt-Sam tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a fresh bloom of a blush across her cheeks. “Okay,” she said.
“Let’s go.” Damon took her hand and led her toward the exit.
Sam swore she saw the hint of a smile cross Alt-Sam’s lips. She looked at the CD player and watched the numbers tick down from seven seconds . She took a deep breath in, braced herself for the plunge and closed her eyes.
When Sam came back to the room, she wanted to get out as many details as she could before she forgot. She went to her desk and pulled out a Lisa Frank notebook she hadn’t yet tossed—she didn’t have the heart to put Hunter the Leopard into the trash. She opened to a clean page and started writing everything she could remember from the playlist.
SAM AND DAMON’S MAGICAL PLAYLIST
Track One: “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence. Otherworldly song about being understood by another human. Tybee High parking lot. Questionable amounts of eyeliner. Alt-Sam kisses Damon. Missing earring is found.
Track Two: “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” by The Darkness. A bop about being head over heels for someone. Alt-Sam and Damon are officially dating. Myles continues to disappoint. Marissa didn’t have an awkward phase in high school. JanSport backpacks are timeless.
Track Three: “Supermassive Black Hole” by Muse. Inarguably the best song and movie scene pairing ever. Damon and Alt-Sam make out during Twilight and get kicked out. One too many hickies.
Track Four: “Want You Bad” by The Offspring. A banger about a bad boy wanting to corrupt a good girl. Myles gets owned by Alt-Sam. Damon skips detention. Alt-Sam skips her extracurricular. I miss Dunkaroos.
Sam scratched her index finger across her forehead. There had to be a bigger point to all of this beyond showing Alt-Sam’s life with Damon, right? But none of her notes added up to any grand realization. There did, however, seem to be a connection to the songs and what she’d seen. When she’d listened to “Bring Me to Life,” she’d watched as Damon and Alt-Sam lit each other up, metaphorically speaking. And “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” paired well with Damon asking Alt-Sam to be his girlfriend.
Unless the realization was simple: she’d made a mistake in letting go of Damon. Because, while she didn’t love Alt-Sam ditching Spirit Committee meetings, her other self was having way more fun than Sam ever did in high school.
But that would mean the life she had now wasn’t where she was supposed to be—even though she loved flying, and her little apartment and her adventures. Was the CD showing her that she could be even happier, if only Damon was folded into everything? Was that even an option anymore?
Maybe she’d missed some important detail in the other visions where she hadn’t paid close attention. Going back for a relisten made sense, given her experiment. The CD player was next to her, and she hit the back button, but the display stayed stuck on the next queued song. She hit the next button, but it wouldn’t skip to the next track, either. Okay, so she couldn’t revisit the visions. Well, she was definitely going to chalk this up to more possessed CD weirdness.
Sam brought the notebook onto the bed and stared at the page. She could listen to another song. But how would seeing herself so deeply entrenched with Damon, when he wasn’t anywhere close to her now, help? And if she was right about the CD player trying to point out her biggest mistake, would she even be able to fix it?
She put the notebook and CD player on her desk, more than a little annoyed at herself, yes, but at the playlist, too. She shouldn’t be defensive, but all of a sudden she felt attacked for her choices and the suggestion that they were the wrong ones. Yes, she’d wondered what would’ve happened, but she’d also assumed she’d done the right thing by not kissing Damon.
Was rage sleep a thing? Because she wanted to rage sleep hard. Or, at least pretend to sleep so she’d have an excuse not to touch the player again. So she got ready for bed, flipped the lights off and closed her eyes, willing her brain to think about anything but the past.