I walked back to the science lab, misty-eyed but content with my decision. In the room was Gerard, who, surprise, surprise, had busied himself with lifting an absurd amount of weights. “That was fast,” he panted, benching his bar and looking at me. “Did you swap your shirts?
“I decided not to go through with it,” I admitted, plopping down in a seat and feeling like I could sleep for the next hundred years.
“Proud of you, cuz,” said Gerard, flashing me an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I know your master plan is being set back by a couple of months, but hey, you’re only 14; you’ve got all the time in the world to make mistakes, learn, and follow your–”
“I already had that epiphany,” I interrupted with a smirk, “but thanks though.”
Gerard shrugged, getting up from his weight bench and walking to the time machine. “Lesson learned or not,” he replied, as he activated the device, “because past you is still going to be wearing a yellow when she auditions, that means the timeline hasn’t been fixed yet.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Meaning?”
“Everything is going to play out the same way it did last time, so we’ve gotta find another way to fix the flow of time. Any suggestions?” Gerard and I put our hands to our chins, deep in thought.
“Maybe we could go back to when I was born and write a secret letter that I can open up once I’m 14 telling me to never mess with time machines.”
Gerard shook his head, “way too complicated, but points for creativity. It would probably be easier to go back in time five minutes before the time machine exploded and stop you from messing with it in the first place.”
“Oh wow, that’s a great idea,” I said, staring appreciatively at my genius cousin. I paused, mulling over what he’d just said. “Y’know, if you’d just done that as soon as you repaired the time machine, then I’d never have ended up in the Middle Ages, you wouldn’t have gotten an arrow in your butt, and this whole misadventure wouldn’t have happened.”
Gerard’s jaw practically dropped to the floor; he started to sway like he’d just suffered a massive migraine. I likewise felt a rock drop into the pit of my stomach, realizing what I’d just said and how easy it would’ve been to get me back home.
“I’m an idiot,” mumbled Gerard, covering his face with his massive hands.
“No, Gerard,” I said, stiffly walking over and placing a consoling hand on his back, “we’re the idiots.”