Jay Asher - The Future of Us

“Act like what?”

“Going out with people and not caring about them,” Josh says. “Even with your future you got rid of Jordan Jones like he didn’t matter. And today you dumped Graham and immediately moved on to Cody. I saw you in the hall with him. But in case that doesn’t work out, now you’re starting something with me. Who’s next?”

“That is not how—”

“Yes it is!”

The way Josh says it feels like a slap across the face. I squeeze my hands into fists and say, “Take that back or get out of my room.”

“Gone!” he says.

As soon Josh’s feet hit the stairs, I fall onto my bed. My shoulders shake and my chest heaves. I stare at the corkboard above my bed, at all the pictures of us. There’s Kellan, Tyson, Josh, and me in the ball pit at GoodTimez. I’ve had that up there since last year. In one of my futures, I even posted it in an album on Facebook. Well, not anymore. I rip the picture off the corkboard, tear it into pieces, and toss it in my trash can.

* * *

I LOOK OUT my window toward Josh’s bathroom, but the blinds are closed. Just this morning, he had a phone propped on that sill, waiting for Sydney to call. I didn’t humiliate him by pointing it out because that’s not how you treat friends.

You don’t judge them. You don’t humiliate them. I bet he’s been judging me all along. Like this morning, judging me for going out with Kyle and Graham even though I didn’t love them. And at lunch, saying I should come to him if I need advice on romance. He thinks I’ll always suck at relationships.

Screw him.

I sit down at my computer again.

Screw his ground rules about Facebook.

There I am, posing with my husband in London. I enlarge the photo. My hair is lighter, and I’m wearing an orange scarf. Kevin is barely taller than me with dark brown eyes. Big Ben looms in the background. Kevin is holding a baby in his arms. An older child is peeking out from between my knees.

Emma Storm

Wishing for a better raincoat. And more sleep. And a

day that doesn’t involve mashed bananas in my hair.

17 hours ago · Like · Comment

The other times I’ve been married to Kevin, and even to Jordan, I kept Nelson as part of my name. What ripple occurred in the past twenty minutes to make me give up my maiden name?

I scroll down.

Emma Storm

I can’t stand how people in England say “Good day”

all the time. It’s like they’re forcing me to have a

good day. And if I’m NOT?

May 16 at 10:47am · Like · Comment

Emma Storm

Diapers, meltdowns, teething, more meltdowns.

Kevin wanted me to stay home with the kids, but I

keep wondering why more men don’t do it. I used to

have a better paying job than him!

May 14 at 12:09pm · Like · Comment

I’m not happy. Again!

When I said that I wouldn’t live in Ohio, I should have been more specific. I should have said “I will not give up my dream job.” Or “I will not live away from the ocean.”

Earlier today, I wrote that I wondered what a marine biologist does in Ohio. I was being vague, but I can tell what’s going on. Kevin moved us there so he could be some kind of hero in his job, but he took me away from what I loved. And the boys we had in Ohio were having a tough time adjusting to school because they had to start in the middle of the year. Kevin doesn’t care about us. He only cares about himself.

I can hear Josh warning me to stop this line of thought. He’d say that maybe my future self is having a bad week. But I know myself. Things are not good.

I click on Friends and scroll through the names. There’s still no Cody Grainger. Before I can stop myself, I go down to the Js.

This time, there’s also no Josh Templeton.

So that’s how it goes. One mistake and he holds it against me forever.

There’s a box at the top of the webpage where you can search for people. I lightly drum my fingers against the keyboard, and then quickly type “Josh Templeton.” A new page loads, with more Josh Templetons than will fit on the screen. But the third Josh down is him.

Josh Templeton 2 mutual friends

I click his name and his page appears. He still lives in Lake Forest and works at Electra Design. In his photo, he’s in a rowboat with Sydney and three kids, but the rest of the page is mostly blank.

Next to his name is a small rectangle that says “Add as Friend.” I try clicking it, but nothing happens. I click it again, but the future won’t let itself be changed that easily.

Fine. Have fun with your happy life, Josh.

I type “Cody Grainger” in the search area and hit Enter.

Cody’s page is similar to Josh’s. He’s not a Friend, so I can’t get much info on him either. It says he lives in Denver, Colorado, and is an architect, focusing on wind and solar energy. His hair looks as blond and spiky as ever, and he has that same sexy smile. Cody definitely ages well.

I scroll down.

Relationship Status Single

Looking for Women

How is Cody Grainger still single in fifteen years?

Okay, let’s say I divorce Kevin in London, bring the kids back to the States, and marry Cody. It’s a long shot, but nothing’s impossible. With that thought in mind, I log off Facebook, disconnect from AOL, and lay down on my bed.

A few minutes later, the phone rings. I’m not answering. Whoever it is can just leave a message.

“Emma!” Martin calls.

How long has he been home? I hope he didn’t hear my argument with Josh.

“Are you upstairs?” he asks. “Your dad’s on the phone.”

I unplug the cord from my computer and snap it into my phone. As I do this, I step on the damp stain on my carpet. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now, especially my dad. I feel guilty that I haven’t called to thank him yet. Plus, he gets all lovey on the phone, which will only make me feel worse.

“Hey, Dad,” I say.

“Is there a problem?” he asks. He sounds stern. “I left you a message over the weekend, and again on Monday, and I still haven’t heard back. It’s Wednesday, Em. Mom said the computer arrived on Saturday.”

I can’t do this now. “I know. I started an email to you, but I’ve been—”

“Too busy to thank me? I’m pretty sure I raised you to be—”

“Oh! So you’re raising me now.”

He pauses. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” My voice rises. “You have a new family and you’re trying to get rid of me by giving me gifts. Is that fair?”

“I don’t know where this attitude—”

I slam down the receiver.

I TURN THE DIAL to Hot and water sprays into the washing machine, sending up waves of steam. After pouring a circle of blue detergent over the dirty clothes, I shut the lid. It’s been a while since I’ve been inspired to clean my room, but last night I scooped all my clothes into a big heap and shoved two years’ worth of Thrasher magazine into the closet. There’s no way to predict when Sydney will first come up to my room, so I want to be ready.

I pass the table where my parents are eating breakfast. Dad is crunching on buttered toast while Mom sips her coffee.

I grab the Lucky Charms in the pantry and linger there for a moment, trying to figure out what I’m going to say to them. My parents got home late last night, and everyone was too tired to discuss what had happened in Dad’s office.

“You’re doing laundry before school?” Mom says. “That’s unusual.”

“I cleaned my room,” I say from the pantry.

“Even more unusual,” Dad says.

They used to bug me about straightening my room, but eventually they gave up. If they want to view this as my way of apologizing for yesterday, that’s fine.

“I’ll be vacuuming this weekend,” Dad says. “I’ll run it over your carpet now that there’s a floor again.”

I head to the table. “I’ll take care of it,” I say, shaking the cereal into a bowl. “It’ll be a nice break from homework. They’re piling it on before finals.”

“We noticed you were in your room all evening,” Mom says. “It’s good to see that your studies haven’t been forgotten.”

I’m late for school one time, by just a few minutes, and now they’re concerned about my homework. If they knew I become a successful graphic designer with a huge house on the lake, they’d stop stressing over one little tardy.

“I haven’t fallen behind all year,” I say, pouring milk over my cereal.

Mom leans across the table and touches my hand. “I didn’t mean to imply that you had.”

“We know we’re lucky,” Dad adds. “We don’t take it for granted that, other than this one time, you’ve been very responsible about getting yourself to school.”

“After you left, we polled a few of our colleagues,” Mom says, “and some of their children are late to school way more often than they’re on time.”

One reason my parents feel overbearing is their need to discuss everything. That was probably why David moved across the country. He wasn’t comfortable with them knowing every part of his life.

I definitely can’t tell Mom and Dad that Emma kissed me. She lives right next door! They’d be nervous wrecks every time I’m home alone. Tyson would listen, but it’s not fair to drag him into this when he sees Emma every day.