Author's note: Thanks for all you kind words. I was surprised by how many of you were interested in this story. Here is the second chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint. :) JD.
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The car ride was painfully quiet as we made our way toward my high school. My father was driving and to say he wasn't happy with me was a vast understatement. Mom was sitting next to him and looked like she hadn't slept much at all last night. I knew they were worried about me and I could certainly see why.
I skipped school and football practice the day before, something I never did. I didn't get home until late and I smelled of alcohol when I finally did show up. Oh yeah, I also forgot to bring pop's car home. He lent it to me for the first day of my senior year.
I'm sure my reaction when I walked in didn't help. I think I stood there with a stupid grin on my face the whole time they lectured me. I was so happy to see them that I could barely follow what they were saying. In the middle of my father's rant I hugged him. Mom was next. She returned my embrace better than pop did, but was obviously concerned.
They sent me to my room afterward saying that talking anymore would be pointless until I sobered up. I wasn't really drunk, but I could see why they thought so. To them I was an eighteen year old who'd skipped school and gotten drunk. To me I was a man older than they were who was getting a chance to see his parents alive and healthy, something that hadn't been true for years.
"Where is my car?" my father asked. I frowned for a moment and then pointed vaguely in one direction. I was pretty sure the senior parking lot was that way and I assumed that's where I parked.
As it turns out, pop's car wasn't hard to spot. You weren't supposed to leave your vehicle in the senior parking lot overnight. The school placed a large orange sticker on the driver's side window to remind you of that when you did. I groaned as memories of what it took to get the sticker off returned. Soap, water, a razor blade and a lot patience.
"I'll take care of that when I get home tonight," I said quickly. My father just shook his head, his expression reminding me of our conversation this morning. He made it clear that what happened the day before was unacceptable. He also made sure I knew how disappointed he was in me.
Now here's the funny part. Despite me actually being older than him and the fact that his judgment was unfair because he had no idea what I was going through, I felt surprisingly guilty. I shook my head and fought off a smile. He wouldn't understand.
"I love you pop," I said suddenly. "You too mom."
"We love you too," my mother said. My father nodded in agreement, but I could see the concern. I guess back when I was eighteen I didn't express my feeling for them particularly well.
'Sounds like an eighteen year old,' I thought, remembering my sister's Becky at that age as we pulled over. My father and I got out of the car.
"No more skipping school," my father said pointedly. I nodded in agreement. I was tempted to hug him again, but I knew it wouldn't go well. Pop was from a generation when men were men and they did not hug each other.
"Where is my kiss goodbye?" mom asked both of us. My father rolled his eyes, but than turned and kissed mom. I watched them and smiled, oddly content on a level it was hard to explain.
In my world pop had died of a heart attack years ago and mom was in a nursing home with Alzheimer's. For just a moment I forced the thought of what lay ahead of them aside. They were my parents and to see them together and in love like this was a dream come true.
'Okay, maybe being thrown back in time to relive high school wasn't a complete bust,' I thought. On the other hand, when the knowledge of what was to come crept back into my head my joy turned bitter sweet.
"Hey Simmons!" someone called. I turned toward the voice. It was Jimmy something or other. I couldn't remember his last name, but hell, I was happy I even came up with the first. He was a friend back in high school, but not a close one.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Coach is mad as hell at you. He said..." Jimmy began, but then stopped when he saw my parents.
"Don't worry son," my father said. "We already know John skipped school yesterday." Jimmy's look apologized for bringing up the coach in front of my parents. I shrugged.
"What did he say?" I asked.
"Coach was ranting when you didn't show up for practice yesterday," Jimmy said. "Someone told him you skipped."
"Who?" I asked.
"Who do you think?" he asked rhetorically. "Brian."
It took me a second to remember who he was talking about. Brian Jacobs was the kid who wanted my position. He was the kid who got it after I blew my knee out in the third game of the season.
"Expect to run at practice," Jimmy said. "A lot."
"Great," I sighed.
"I'll see you later," Jimmy said, nodding toward my parents respectfully and moving away.
"Take whatever the coach gives you like a man," my father said as he moved to his car. "Don't do the crime, if you can't do the time."
"Gee, thanks dad," I sighed. I'd forgotten how he liked all those 'oh so helpful' sayings.
"We're not done talking about yesterday," he added pointedly as he started his car.
"I figured," I replied. "See you tonight."
"Goodbye," he said and drove off.
"Are you okay?" my mom asked as I watched pop's car leaving the parking lot. She had moved over to the driver's seat in her car.
"Sure," I answered, forcing a smile on my face.
"You're lying," she said, making me laugh.
Mom could always read me. I looked at her and couldn't stop myself from picturing the last time I saw her before this whole thing started. She hadn't even recognize me. The truly sad part was that happened more often than not. I felt my eyes tearing up, but I fought it.
"I will be," I said more honestly. "Yesterday was just an off day."
"I imagine so," my mom smiled.
"I'd better be going," I said, leaning in the window and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I don't want to be late for class."
"I'll see you tonight," she said. "I'm making your favorite, stew."
"Oh wow!" I cried excitedly. I hadn't had my mother's stew in decades. She was right. It was my favorite.
"You don't have to be that excited," she laughed. "I just made it a few weeks ago."
"Mom, you know how much I love your stew," I replied. "In fact, one of these days you'll have to show me how to make it."
"You want to cook?" mom asked in surprise.
"I like to cook," I shrugged. It was the truth, but it was something that developed later on in life, after Tiffany left and I was on my own.
"Since when?" my mom frowned.
"You'd be surprised," I replied, thinking, 'Boy in that an understatement!'
"Then maybe I'll let you make dinner one of these days," she grinned. "I get tired of cooking sometimes."
"Why not let Cindy make dinner?" I asked. My sister was a good cook as well. I hadn't seen her yet since returning to eighteen and high school because she slept over a friend's house the night before. I'm not sure if it was planned or mom and dad set it up when they heard I cut school.
"Please!" mom snorted. "I love your sister dearly and she's getting better each year, but I am not letting a thirteen year old into my kitchen by herself. She's not ready for that unless you want boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner?"
"Right," I said, shaking my head. Cindy was only thirteen. I guess I knew that, but it obviously hadn't sunk in. "I'll make dinner this weekend."
"Anything special?" mom asked in curiosity.
"How about lasagna?" I offered.
"Are you serious?" she asked in surprise.
"You'll love it," I promised. "I'll make you a list of what I need when I get home tonight." Mom frowned briefly, but then nodded and said goodbye before driving off. I watched her go and then turned and faced the school.
The build was boxy and made of brick. There was a tall fence around the front of the property. All the school needed was barbed wire and some guards and it could easily be a prison.
"Am I really going to do this?" I asked myself.
I had choices. I had a lot of them. I didn't have to go to high school again. In many ways it seemed so pointless. On the other hand, I really had no idea what to do if I didn't. I certainly didn't want to upset my parents further. So far, they were the one good point of being thrown back to this time and place. The fact that I was giving them reason to worry didn't sit well.
Late the night before while I was in my bed I thought it out and decided that I would not do anything drastic for a while. I'd live the life I had when I was eighteen the first time until I figured out what I wanted to do or until I woke up from whatever dream I was having. Besides, I was only eighteen in this life. I had time to make decisions and I had the patience that's tends to come with age.
Of course, saying that and living it were two different things, especially when twenty minutes later I was once again sitting on Mr. Hargrove's class listening to him drone on and on. The first thing I noticed when I walked in the room was that Rodger wasn't there. Smart man.
I spend the first half of the class wondering what he was doing. Rodger wasn't the type to step softly. I could picture him finding some money and buying stock in a company he knew was going to take off soon.
'No,' I thought. 'That's too slow for Rodger.' I thought a moment and smiled. It was far more likely that he was placing bets on a football or baseball team we both knew were sure wins. That made me grin as I realized money wouldn't be hard to come by if I put my mind to it.
I spent second half of the class wondering just how I could do that. I came up with far fewer alternatives than I expected. In my time, the future, I was a salesman, not a technician. I knew how fast technology was going to hit the world over the next few decades and that knowledge could make me money by investing in the right stocks, but I couldn't use that knowledge to develop anything on my own. I didn't have the knowledge.
The truth was that like most people in my time I didn't really understand how things worked. For example, I'm pretty good with computers, but so what? Being able to create fancy slide shows, documents or spreadsheets are all based on having an application to develop it on. I could describe the functionality of any of those applications I use in some detail, but would that help a developer? Maybe, maybe not. It was something to think on.
