two
F irst things first, Maddy needed to do some serious adjusting.
Sitting up and looking around, she searched for anything that could tell her more about the time she was supposed to have landed herself in. Checking the date had become priority number one.
If only she could find a calendar or better yet, her phone.
Spotting a flip-phone on her desk, she sighed deeply.
Well, that looked very promising, she thought, as she picked up the device and stared at it as if it were a ghost from her past. At least, she already had a general idea about the date before she even flipped it open.
November 20 th , 2006
Things were even worse than she’d expected.
Apparently, being 16 years old hadn’t been enough the first time around, so a repeat was due.
There was a tingle in her fingers, and her eye was twitching of its own accord. Maybe that’s what having a stroke felt like, she pondered while her hopes of this being a dream seemed to be wilting one by one.
Her gaze fell on the full-body mirror on the wall right next to her wardrobe.
Well, a quick look would certainly clear things out.
High-school Maddy’s fresh face met hers in the reflection. A mass of long, tangled, dark brown hair flowed untamable and her hazel–green eyes stared back at her wide with both shock and resignation.
She couldn’t help but trace her features with her eyes. Her face looked as different as it looked the same. Gone were the small lines in the corners of her eyes or the barely there brackets of her smile lines that had framed her lips. Other than that, she looked and felt pretty much the same.
She then proceeded to pinch her arm quite hard in a last-ditch effort to wake up, only achieving to bruise herself.
Now that that was out of the way, Maddy thought it was probably time to get ready and face the music. She threw a sideways glance at her closet, where she knew she would find some items of very questionable fashion sense, and peeking inside her wardrobe proved her right.
Her clothes had always been a combination of sensible outfits that favored comfort over style, and things her mom had picked out for her over the years because she had found them cute.
And they were cute. Just not something a high-school student would usually choose to wear.
She chuckled as she spotted some of those items on the hangers.
Shaking her head, Maddy got dressed, throwing on the first warm clothes she could find–a pair of dark sweatpants and a baggy purple pullover–and made her way to the kitchen, where her sweet, sweet Mom had already prepared her breakfast, and laid it out on the table, like she always used to do for her in the mornings.
Sitting down, Maddy glanced at her plate where two pieces of toast lay topped with butter and honey, along with a cup of warm milk, its honeyed aroma filling her with warmth. The smile she aimed at her breakfast was fonder than any smile aimed at food had any business of being.
“Thank you, Mom” she told Ellie, focusing on her plate as she felt a sting in her eyes.
If her mom found it strange that she had thanked her for something she had been doing pretty much all her life for her, she didn’t show it.
She just replied, “You’re welcome, sweetie,” and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
As she ate her breakfast, Maddy’s eyes took in details of her childhood home that she’d forgotten.
Their house had always reminded her of a patchwork of very different items thrown together in a seemingly haphazard way but in a manner that made absolute sense.
At least, according to her mom who had always been the instigator of implementing impromptu decoration ideas.
The moment Maddy would step through the door, she would be greeted by the whole living room / dining room / kitchen ensemble.
The kitchen would envelop her in its warm, hazelnut and honey colors, always inviting her to sit in a cushioned kitchen chair and grab a bite to eat while recounting the events of the day to her loved ones.
A mouthwatering aroma would drift over from the pots and pans, impossible to resist.
Then, the living room would pull her in with one of those plush sofas—so soft that once she sat down, it felt like quicksand. She’d need actual help getting back up.
And on the far side of the living room sat a dining table, surrounded by a completely mismatched set of chairs. Not even the chairs matched one another, which was an impressive achievement in itself.
Maddy remembered it as if it were yesterday, the rare sick day as a child, staying home from school, swallowed by the cushions and the blue and green quilts, a hot cocoa warming her small hands, and her favorite cartoons playing on that humongous box that was called a TV back then. She had never been happier.
Glancing at the clock made Maddy realize that all the daydreaming was going to make her late, so she made quick work of her food and next thing she knew, she was shouldering her school bag and heading towards the door, but not before grabbing her fleece jacket. She’d always been terribly cold.
Her school was just a short distance on foot, so she was glad for the chance to walk and clear her thoughts, the cool autumn breeze hitting her face.
She supposed she was taking all this remarkably well.
Maybe because she didn’t really believe that this was actually happening, despite everything pointing towards the opposite, and that at some point things would right themselves again.
Maddy groaned.
Why couldn’t she have just gotten a Hogwarts letter instead? She would have popped on that train in 0.5 seconds, no questions asked.
Her desperation must have been clear as day on her face, her mumbling attracting the puzzled looks of other struggling students entering the school building. That was exactly what she needed, to attract more attention to herself.
She did not have the patience for this, her nerves barely hanging on by a thread. She would probably snap at someone just for bumping into her.
Maddy wandered inside the large school entrance and couldn’t help but take it all in again after so many years having gone by since she had last set foot here.
As high schools went, this was a decent one, with its combination of terracotta hues and whites, surrounded by plenty of greenery.
She’d walked these grounds thousands of times so her steps traced the building she knew so well, taking her to where she remembered her classroom to be.
She wasn’t one of those people who looked back on their school days with an air of fondness and nostalgia.
The weather was pretty much always gloomy this time of year, with frequent drizzles and an ever-present overcast sky, casting the whole building in a somber mood.
Those off-white, almost yellowish walls used to haunt her dreams, so roaming these corridors sure made it fun.
When you were the bookish, quiet, type that didn’t want to be involved in a lot of things or stir trouble, like she was, popularity would be so far away it could as well be on a different planet.
But she would take everything in stride, Maddy decided, straightening her spine.
Firstly, because she wasn’t a teenager, even if she looked like one.
And secondly, because what she really wanted was to find a way out of this mess while she tried to understand how she had landed herself in this situation.
As she was checking her bag, making sure she had all her books, her skin prickled at the bottom of her nape and a shiver went through her, the kind of shiver someone might get when they’re being watched.
She turned and immediately tried to scan the area, chasing the source of that feeling, but it was practically impossible with dozens of students scattering around trying to get to their classes.
That strange sense, though, never dissipated.
It followed Maddy all through her first torturous hours of maths, history and English, up until the first big break that signaled lunch.
She’d been going through the motions all morning and she was looking forward to some uninterrupted time with food, away from rowdy and very loud teenagers.
As she was trying to locate a place to eat with moderately less people, a strong hand gripped her arm out of nowhere and shoved her unceremoniously into what appeared to be a deserted chemistry lab.
Okay, ouch. That certainly hadn’t been very nice. She opened her mouth to say exactly that when she was suddenly whirled around.
A pair of chocolate-brown eyes met hers, a hand still holding her firmly in its tight grip.
Nathaniel Keaton was looming over her, as he practically growled his words right into her face.
“What did you do?”
She inhaled sharply as it all came rushing back.