The first thing I did after exiting the time machine was vomit all over the floor. It turns out moving through time and space is not something you should do on a full stomach, and now today’s lunch was splattered across the science lab and my new shoes. Correction: If everything had worked and I was in the future, my shoes would be covered in yesterday’s lunch.
“Welcome back, cuz; how was the trip?”
I wiped the sick from my mouth and looked out over the classroom. Gerard was in his usual spot, bench-pressing an absurd amount of weight, and unless I was mistaken, he was still wearing the same dark blue tank top as when I’d entered the time machine.
“Did it not work?” I asked, disappointed I’d still need to wait a whole day to see the results of the Hamlet auditions.
“Nah, it worked perfectly,” replied Gerard, grunting with exertion as he set down his weights. “It’s been exactly 23 hours, 55 minutes, and 19 seconds since we last spoke.”
I gave him a weird look. “Have you been wearing the same sweaty tank top since yesterday?”
Gerard looked down at his outfit. “It’s comfortable,” he said with a shrug.
“Did she post the results?”
“Yeah, they’re right outside the auditorium!”
Several students babbled excitedly as they rushed past the science lab, no doubt referring to THE audition results. I felt my pulse quicken; it had worked; it was tomorrow, which meant– “Wish me luck!” I cried, rushing past Gerard and out into the hallway.
“You got this, P,” called out Gerard as I sprinted past him, “knock ‘em dead!”
XXX
The audition results had been pinned onto a corkboard outside the auditorium, and already, a large crowd of students clamored around it. I tried to politely weave through the mass of people but may have accidentally shoved a few folks out of the way in my excitement to reach the front. After some struggling, I finally broke through the crowd and pinned up on the board in all its crinkled, carbon-copied glory were the audition results for Hamlet the Musical. I took a calming breath, barely suppressing the dark urge to tap dance with joy, and scanned the list, searching for my name. In just a few moments, I would be one step closer to Broadway and my dreams!
I started from the top of the list, scanning down as I searched for my name. Hmm, that’s weird; I didn’t see Piper Gosnell anywhere; I must’ve overlooked it.
“Yes!” cried one of my peers, “Tree 2, non-speaking role!”
Good for him, I thought, as I reread the list, this time starting from the bottom and reading up. We always need more trees in these sorts of productions.
“OMG, I got cast as Montahog!” cried a girl, her shrill voice cutting through the general din of the crowd.
“Wow, everyone’s getting their dream roles,” I muttered, slightly annoyed at still having not located my name. Maybe it’ll be easier if I search for Hamela and see if my name’s next to the character. Hamela was the production’s leading lady, so if I go back to the top of the list–.
“I can’t believe it! I got the lead role of Hamela!”
My eyes snapped toward the voice, recognizing the speaker as one of my classmates, Gertrude McFlabberston. Gertrude and I had been friends since elementary school, but for some reason, I suddenly felt like tap dancing all over her fat, stupid-looking face.
“Y-you got the lead r-r-role?” I asked, left eye twitching sporadically.
Gertrude turned to face me, her elated face becoming remorseful upon seeing my expression. “Aww, Piper, I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping me in a hug,” I know you really wanted the lead role. You’ll get it for sure in the spring production!”
The world seemed to spin around me. I tasted something acidic in my mouth, and I started to laugh in a slightly crazy, off-kilter way. I get it now, I thought as several concerned-looking students slowly backed away from me. This must be the casting list for the understudies, the folks who help out if the lead actors get sick or can’t perform!
Gertrude was a good friend, but she’d only taken up acting a few months ago; there was zero chance she had been cast as Hamela over me. I took a deep breath and wiped some loose strands of saliva from the corners of my mouth. Phew, for a second, I had been about to flip out, and nobody likes to see Piper Gosnell when she’s off her rocker.
“What do you mean they don’t serve caviar here?!” shouted a voice from further down the hall.
I perked up, no doubt about it; that was M. I needed to find her and let her know she’d posted the wrong audition results. The longer they were left up, the more disappointed the understudies would be. Breaking free of Gertrude’s hug and weaving back through the crowd, I followed the indignant shouting, eventually locating M, who was busy laying into some poor teacher.
“I-I’m sorry, Miss M,” said the teacher sheepishly, “but we don’t have any personalized limos for you either.”
“WHAT?!” M practically shrieked, her entire body shaking with rage. “Next, you’re gonna tell me something even more stupid, like your parents actually loved you!”
The teacher wilted under her furious gaze, bursting into tears and running down the hall. Huh, guess M had that effect on everyone.
“Good afternoon, Miss M,” I said, turning on my most flattering smile and giving a slight curtsy. M turned to face me, her furious expression turning into a delighted smile.
“Piper, afternoon darling,” replied M with a nod, my smiling face reflected in her dark sunglasses. “You did absolutely splendid in yesterday’s audition; clearly the most competent in the entire school.”
I felt my body relax at her words. I had been pretty sure I’d nailed yesterday’s audition, but having M confirm it was reassuring. “I’m glad to hear that,” I replied, “because I think there’s been a mistake. I just saw at the audition results, and you accidentally cast Gertrude as Hamela.”
M frowned, cocking her head to the side. “The only mistake I’ve made recently was not signing a pre-nup with my 63rd husband. I assure you, Piper, Gertrude got the role of Hamela.”
There goes that eye twitching again, and was it just me, or was the world turning monochrome? “W-wha-wha?” I stammered, not quite believing what I was hearing. I had bled for this role, spent months rehearsing, staying up late into the night, and ensuring every minute detail of my performance was perfect. I’d learned freaking Swahili for this role; where had I messed up!? I forced myself to stop spiraling. Don’t let M think you’re crazy, Piper; use your words.
“But you said I gave the best performance in the entire school.” I finally managed to blurt out.
“Oh, by a country bumpkin mile, darling.” replied M with a toothy smile, “But the entire time you were onstage,” she continued, suddenly looking remorseful, “I couldn’t help but feel that you were only acting.”
“Acting?” I asked, confused. Wasn’t that the entire point?
“The point of acting is not actually to act,” replied M, seeming to note my befuddlement, “the point is to so completely embody the personality and mannerisms of your character and the world they inhabit, that the audience forgets they’re watching a pimply teenager perform some cheap public domain parody, and can instead believe they’ve been transported to another time and place and are watching an entirely different person. M gave me a stern look. “As skilled as you are onstage when I saw your performance, I didn’t see Princess Hamela; I saw Piper pretending to be Princess Hamela.”
I clenched and unclenched my fists, a wave of emotion crashing into me. I’d driven the audience to tears, and she thought my performance was lacking in some way!? If I opened my mouth, I was pretty sure I’d say something rude, so I just gritted my teeth and said nothing.
“Also, a word of wisdom,” continued M, her lip curling slightly, “next time you audition for one of my plays, don’t wear such cheery colors to your audition.”
“What?” M pointed down at my shirt, a bright yellow top with flowers and smiley faces adorning it. Yeah, it was a little girly, but shut up, I liked the design.
“Now, I hope you don’t hold this against me,” continued M, sounding apologetic, “but I absolutely detest the color yellow.” M’s face suddenly darkened; she looked like she’d just watched someone break into her home and stab her puppy. I instinctively took a step back.
“You don’t like the color yellow?”
“I hate it,” she replied, venom in her voice, “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. In fact, I hate it so much that if I had a genie, I’d use my first wish to eliminate the color entirely and the second to fill the lives of anyone who’s ever worn the color with never-ending misery and woe.”
“What about the third wish?” I asked, my surprise at M’s visceral reaction more powerful than my rapidly encroaching depression.
M jerked her head up as if surprised to find me still there. “Oh, don’t mind me, dear,” she replied, smoothing out some unseen ruffles in her all-black outfit. “Just unpacking some childhood trauma; forget you saw that.”
She cleared her throat, clearly wanting to move past whatever that was. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the part you wanted, Piper, but it’s because I know you have so much more potential, that I cast Gertrude as the play’s lead instead of you.
Small comfort, I was the most qualified in the school, but not qualified enough to get what I wanted. “But wouldn’t I learn to be a better actress by working under a great director like yourself?” I asked, throwing a desperate Hail Mary and trying to appeal to M’s sense of pride.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“What you’re lacking isn’t something that can be learned through practice or repetition,” replied M with a shake of her head, “it needs to be experienced. If you want to give the best performance possible, then you need to be Hamela, and Hamlea needs to be you.”
“Okay, great,” I muttered, fighting and failing to hold back the sass, “all I need to do is learn how to be a medieval pig-woman, and I’m a shoo-in for the part. Easy.”
M placed a maternal hand on my shoulder; it was cold as ice. “You’re one of the most talented actresses I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting,” she replied, my sour expression reflected in her dark sunglasses, “and it would be a crime to have you perform in one of my productions when there’s still so much potential for you to unlock.” M flashed a knowing smile, “Why, something tells me you’ll be more than ready for the lead role come next semester.”
Next semester wasn’t good enough, and apparently, my acting wasn’t either. Without another word, I wrenched my shoulder free of M’s grasp and stiffly walked away, no thoughts in my head except for a general feeling of crushing disappointment and a strong desire to drop-kick Hamlet’s director.
“Also, weren’t you wearing that same outfit yesterday?” Asked M, the distaste in her voice evident, “That’s not very hygienic, dear.”
XXX
I made it back to the science lab through sheer force of will, each step I took feeling like a mile. Gerard was still in the classroom when I returned; he’d stopped lifting weights and was now tinkering with some new mechanical project; he looked up as I entered and flashed me a smile.
“So, how’d it go?”
In response, I collapsed to the ground and began to sob.
“Oh,” said Gerard awkwardly, “I’m sorry.” From my spot on the floor, I heard my cousin walk towards me, and a moment later, I was scooped up in his massive arms and gently deposited into a chair. “You know I’m not great with all this emotional stuff,” continued my cousin, scratching the back of his neck,” but uh, I’m sure you did your best, and er, you’ll get it next semester.”
I nodded, sucking in my lip and trying to put on a brave face. I pulled out my calendar from my backpack and stared morosely at today’s date. Today was when I was supposed to make my freshman acting debut and get the lead role in Hamlet. Staring at the meticulously scheduled calendar, I realized I was going to have to rearrange the next three decades of my life. That was gonna take a while.
“Yeah, you’re right, it’s not a problem,” I replied, my smile stretching so wide it hurt my face. “Getting this role was only the next step in achieving the ultimate purpose of my life. No big deal whatsoever.”
“That’s good?” said Gerard, more question than statement.
I nodded mechanically. “I can just try again in the spring. I’m sure Broadway can wait another 180 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes, 57 seconds, 1034 milliseconds, 43218 nano–” And that’s when I started crying again.
Gerard patiently patted me on the back until I stopped sobbing. Once I’d calmed down enough to be coherent, I shared my tale of misery and woe.
“Well, that sucks,” said a sympathetic Gerard after I finished recounting the worst day of my life, “but no matter what some dumb theater lady says, I think your acting and choice of wardrobe are awesome.” He flashed me a smile, “You’re Piper Freaking Gosnell, the best actress I’ve had the privilege of knowing.”
“Yeah,” I nodded, getting hyped up by my cousin’s encouraging words. “That hack of a director didn’t know what she was talking about, why I bet I was just having an off day, normally I could’ve crushed that audition in my sleep.”
“That’s the spirit!” Replied Gerard, giving me a clap on the shoulder, “This is nothing more than a minor setback. Just keep practicing, wear a slightly darker outfit, and next semester, I’m sure you’ll be a shoo-in for the lead!”
I nodded, feeling a mix of conviction and frustration swirling around my head. I was about ready to leap out of my seat, march back over to M, and do my audition all over again, but unfortunately, I’d have to wait a whole other semester before I got the chance. In teenage years, that amount of time might as well be forever!
I perked up; time! What if I didn’t have to wait a whole other semester and could just redo everything? Typically, an idea like that would be impossible to put into practice, as you can’t simply reach back in time and retry an audition or hand yourself a wardrobe change. But most people didn’t have a literal genius for a cousin. “Can I use your time machine again?” I asked, bolting up from my seat and rushing over to the metallic ring at the far end of the classroom.
Gerard shrugged. “Sure, wanna meet the 57th president, explore the moon base in 2249, watch the heat death of the universe? Spoiler alert, that last one is super depressing.”
I turned back to face him, fire in my eyes. “I wanna go back in time, back 26 hours before I auditioned for Hamlet. I wanna redo my audition and wear a darker shirt!”
I had been sure Gerard would be gungho for the idea and was more than a little surprised to see a frown creep across his face.
“Sorry, P,” he replied, walking over to join me by the time machine, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Not the response I’d been hoping for, “Why not?”
Gerard sucked in air between his teeth, pausing to weigh his words. “Uhm, how can I explain this?”
Looking around the room, he picked up my backpack and pulled out a textbook. He rifled through the pages and turned the book around to show me an illustration of Earth’s history. Y’know, one of those detailed evolutionary pictures of how we went from dinosaurs to cavemen to modern people.
“I’m cool with going to the future,” continued Gerard as he handed me the textbook, “‘Cause none of that stuff has happened yet.” He pointed at the dinosaurs and cavemen in the illustration. “But it’s much more dangerous for a person to go to the past., ‘cause if we’re not careful, we could end up changing the course of history, and not in a good way.”
That made sense, but, “I only wanna go back a single day.” I countered, trying not to sound frustrated. “It’s not like I’m trying to rig an election or start another world war; I just wanna redo my Hamlet audition. Is that too much to ask for?”
“It doesn’t seem like a big deal,” admitted Gerard with a shrug, “but we don’t know what would happen if you changed things, no matter how seemingly slight or insignificant. What if getting the lead role in Hamlet causes an unforeseeable chain reaction of events, and you end up dooming all of humanity to an early and fiery death?”
I folded my arms and just stared at him.
“Okay, that’s pretty unlikely,” he admitted, “but if you interact with a version of yourself from a different point in time, it could cause reality to implode on itself.”
My eyes widened in shock; that would definitely put a wrench in my Broadway plans. “Really?”
A portal appeared above us, and a hand reached out, holding a protein shake. “Here you go, bro,” said the disembodied hand.
“Thanks, bro,” replied Gerard, taking the protein shake and fist-bumping the hand before the portal closed. My cousin quickly downed the shake and turned back to me. “Probably not,” he said, wiping shake residue from his mouth, “but if you go back in time, then there’d be two of you running around, which could make things super awkward for everyone.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” I rebutted, “Once I go back in time, I can stuff past Piper in a locker ‘till my audition’s over, and no one would ever know there were two of us.
Gerard shook his head, he pointed a muscular finger at me. “Not necessarily, even if you return to the future after your audition, we’d run into a new problem, because Past Piper would never have failed the audition.
“Meaning?” I asked, starting to remember how stupidly complicated time travel could be.
“Meaning, that once you return to the present, the other Piper would be here also, because she never needed to return to the past. There’d be two of you living in the same place and time.”
“Well, I’ve always wanted a sister,” I said dismissively. When Gerard’s frown deepened at my response, I tried another approach.
“Please,” I begged, taking hold of his hands and fluttering my eyelashes in that cute way guys are suckers for, “You know how important this is to me.”
Gerard’s lips stretched into a razor-thin line; for a second, he looked like he might crack. “I’m sorry, but no,” he said after several moments of silence. “The past is meant to be learned from and acted on in the present so we can prepare for the future, it’s not right to mess with the order of events.”
Ugh, Gerard was sounding way too much like a responsible adult. I felt my face growing hot, the sass I constantly worked so hard to control started to bubble back towards the surface. “Wow, did you get that line from a fortune cookie?” I retorted, probably sounding a bit meaner than I meant to.
“Maybe,” shrugged Gerard, “but the point still stands: it’s not safe to go back to the past, even for something as important as your audition.”
I wanted to cry again. I got where Gerard was coming from, but this was so frustrating. I could course-correct my entire life with a simple change of wardrobe and a two-minute audition, and he thought I was going to start World War 3. Maybe I should try and make a break for it.
“See ya yesterday, cuz!” I sprinted towards the time machine and began spinning knobs and pulling levers. My master plan was thwarted almost immediately when I felt myself being scooped up by my jacked cousin and gently deposited a few feet away.
“Nice try.” Said Gerard, smirking as he crossed his freakishly large arms, “But you’re gonna need to bench press a few hundred more pounds before you can get past me.”
That gave me another idea. “Look!” I cried, eyes widening as I pointed outside of the classroom. “There’s some guy in the hallway with muscles twice as big as yours!”
Gerard rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Piper, I’m a literal genius, remember?” He rapped a fist against his head. “It’ll take more than a simple trick to fool me.”
I sighed, shoulders drooping. “You’re right,” I admitted, “his muscles are actually three times larger than yours.”
“OH, IT’S GO TIME!” There was a tearing sound as Gerard flexed his muscles, and his tank top tore to pieces, exposing his shredded physique underneath. “1 v. 1 me bro!” Gerard yelled as he sprinted out of the classroom and down the hallway. “First to 1,000 push-ups wins!”
Gerard may have been a genius, but he was still a muscle-headed jock. I figured I’d bought myself at least a few seconds before his inner brainiac overcame his desire to outperform other manly men. I turned back to the time machine and, remembering how Gerard had operated it yesterday, quickly set the travel date for 26 hours into the past.
I felt my pulse quicken with excitement, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little guilty at the same time. Gerard just wanted to make sure everyone stayed safe, and I’d deceived him. Kind of a jerk move, but a necessary one.
“I’ll be careful,” I whispered under my breath, “Just gonna take another crack at my audition and that’s it; I’ll make as few changes to the past as possible.” I was sure Gerard would be pretty annoyed once this was over, but I’d make it up to him. As soon as I was a rich and famous actress, I could buy him all the scientific equipment, protein powder, and cryptocurrency he’d ever want.
With the date and time set, I took a deep breath and activated the machine. The device whirled to life, a giant blue portal appearing inside its ring and bathing the entire room in a pleasant ocean-blue glow.
Okay, this was it. I took one final look at the terminal, double-checking everything was correctly set and prepared for my audition with destiny.
“Here you go, bro.” Something heavy dropped onto my head, causing me to jump in surprise and reflexively grab my noggin. I looked up and saw a tiny blue portal, coming out of which was a muscular hand curled up as if awaiting a fist bump. I think I’d just been hit by one of Gerard’s protein shakes. Rubbing my head, I checked my outfit, glad to see nothing had spilled onto it, then gasped in horror as I saw the contents of the shake spilling out all across the time machine’s terminal.
I held my breath, watching the sticky contents sink into the keyboard and monitor. I braced for some kind of explosion or wormhole to tear into existence, but nothing happened. I sighed in relief, suddenly realizing I’d broken into a sweat. Why had I been worried? This was Gerard we were talking about; of course, he’d thought to make his time machine waterproof–.
The keyboard burst into flames, warning lights flashed all over the science lab, and the blue portal within the time machine turned an angry crimson. “Well, that can’t be good,” I said to myself in the understatement of the century.
Suddenly, the portal doubled in size. I screamed as I felt myself being sucked towards the time machine like I was being hoovered up by some kind of interdimensional vacuum cleaner. I threw my arms out, grabbing onto a part of the time machine that wasn’t on fire, desperately holding on and trying to stop myself from being dragged into who knows when.
“That was a dirty trick, Piper.” Gerard stalked back into the room, a scowl on his face. “That guy’s muscles weren’t ever half my, JIMMINY CHRISTMAS!!” Gerard’s mouth dropped open in horror as he took in the state of the room.
“Help me!” I screamed, the pull from the portal growing stronger by the second. “Also, I’m like super sorry!”
I tried to maintain my grip on the time machine, but I have chicken wings for arms. I felt my fingers slip and I flew towards the portal, being stopped just inches from the angry-red maw as Gerard’s massive hands wrapped around my arms.
“Hold on!” Gerard yelled, face and muscles bulging with exertion as he tried to yank me away from the portal.
“Gerard, don’t let go!” I shouted, voice shrill with terror. Despite my request, Gerard’s grip began to slip, and my vision was almost entirely enveloped in the crimson of the portal.
“I’m sorry,” he grunted, desperately trying to hold on. “But my muscles aren’t as strong as the infinite flow of time! I should’ve worked out more!”
And with that, Gerard lost his grip, and I was sucked into the portal. Everything went red.