I slide the macaroni pan into the oven and head upstairs. After I sign on, I add my mom as MrsMartinNichols. Then I check to see if she can get onto the Facebook website from her account, but there’s no sign of it in her Favorite Places.

Relieved, I sign out and collapse back in my chair. Our secret is safe. But I still don’t know what this thing is, or how I’m going to figure it out if Josh doesn’t come over.

Which he’s never going to do.

I sink into my papasan chair to do homework. I can smell the food cooking downstairs. My mom and Martin arrive home. A few minutes later, she calls me down for dinner.

I’ve always considered mac and cheese the ultimate comfort food. It looks like I still do fifteen years from now. But today the noodles clump in my throat. Maybe it’s because they’re whole wheat, as my mom proudly explains to Martin. Or maybe it’s because nothing could comfort me right now.

* * *

AFTER WE FINISH the dishes, my mom and Martin continue their demolition of the downstairs bathroom. They’re blasting Led Zeppelin and using a hammer and chisel to remove old tiles. I pour a glass of water, head upstairs, and lie on my bed.

I’m sorry that Josh saw Graham feeling me up, but I’m allowed to kiss whoever I want. And Graham and I are going out, so it’s not like Josh can call me a slut. Even so, I feel terrible about it. Especially after what happened last November.

It was the opening night of Toy Story. A bunch of us went to see it, taking up a whole row. I sat next to Josh, and during the scenes with Sid’s creepy toys, I buried my face in his shoulder. I’ve always loved Josh’s smell. It reminds me of tree forts and the lake. Most people went home after the movie, but Kellan, Tyson, Josh, and I went to the graveyard to visit Tyson’s mom. She died when he was a baby and, as long as I’ve known him, he’s stopped by to drop off flowers or just say hi. Kellan and Tyson took a walk while Josh and I went in search of Clarence and Millicent. They’re the names we once discovered on two gravestones that belonged to a married couple. Clarence and Millicent died on the same date when they were both in their nineties. We loved the idea that they never had to live a day without the other. That’s how we got the names for our Hamburger Helper couple, and also how I picked my password.

We were standing right next to Clarence and Millicent when Josh said, “I really like you, Emma.”

I smiled. “I really like you, too.”

“I’m glad,” he said, and then he stepped close like he was about to kiss me.

I stumbled back. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re… Josh.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I could see how much I hurt him.

But I meant it. For my whole life, Josh had been the one person I could always count on. If something happened between us and it didn’t work out, I knew I would lose him. But in trying to protect us, I ended up losing him anyway.

I close my eyes and, for the first time all day, let exhaustion overcome me.

A short while later, my mom startles me awake.

“Emma?” she calls from downstairs. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” I say. I sit up and rub my eyes.

“Josh is here. I’m sending him up.”

14://Josh

BEFORE ENTERING EMMA’S ROOM, I take a deep breath to calm down, but my fingers are clenched. The last time I saw Emma, she was getting felt up. While I considered not coming over tonight, I need to see what she read about me. I want to prove this is a hoax, tell Emma to get over it, and then go back to acting like I don’t live next door to her.

Emma is sitting on the edge of her bed, still in her orange and black track uniform. Her hair is matted, and her cheek is creased like she just woke up. She smiles weakly, but she’s having trouble making eye contact.

Emma shakes her head. “I’m sorry if—”

“I don’t care,” I say, looking at her computer. “Let’s just forget it.”

“I’m sure it hurt, so I want you to know—”

“It didn’t hurt,” I say. “I was just surprised because I thought you were breaking up with him.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Emma says, “but I am going to break up with him soon.”

“Oh, I see. You just needed your tits grabbed one more time.”

Emma’s eyes flash with anger, and I know I’ve gone too far.

“You’re lucky I’m a nice person,” she says, “because I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. I know why you said it, but—”

“Why did I say it?” I ask. I want her to tell me that I’m jealous of Graham so I can laugh in her face.

“Josh, if you want me to show you that website, then you really need to shut up.”

Emma stomps to her desk. It feels good to know I’m not the only one pissed off right now.

The brick wall screensaver is running. Emma jiggles the mouse. I can see her enter “EmmaNelson4ever@aol.com,” then begin typing “M-i-l-l-i-c”

“Is your password seriously Millicent?” I ask.

Emma looks up at me. “How did you guess that?”

“I saw the first several letters and… do you want to hear something weird?”

Emma shrugs, but doesn’t say anything.

“On the school email accounts they gave us,” I say, “I chose Clarence for my password.”

“No way!” Emma says. “Our Hamburger Helper eating—”

“Ice-cream-truck driving—”

“Middle-aged married couple.”

“That’s them,” I say, and for the briefest moment we exchange a look as if we can both remember what it felt like to be best friends.

Emma hits Enter and the computer beeps and crackles as it dials up to AOL.

“Did you see Sydney today?” she asks, swinging her chair around.

“We have Peer Issues together.”

Emma smiles. “Did you say anything to her?”

“I didn’t need to. My stupid face did all the talking.”

Emma points a finger at me as if looking down the barrel of a gun. “But you didn’t think this was real.”

“I still don’t,” I say. “While being able to see my future—especially that future—would be unbelievably awesome, it’s also unbelievable.”

“Welcome!” the electronic voice says.

Emma turns back to her computer and continues typing. “It’s funny hearing you act skeptical. You used to believe in Bigfoot and UFOs. And remember the Goatman?”

“I never believed in the Goatman,” I say. “I just thought he was interesting.”

Emma double-clicks where it says “Facebook,” and a white box opens in the middle of the screen. She retypes her email address and password, but instead of pressing Enter, she looks at me.

“I always imagined time travel would be so big and life-changing,” she says. “Like A Wrinkle in Time or Back to the Future. But here, all most people care about are lame vacation photos and trivial things.”

I almost say: Or marrying the hottest chick in school.

“So why do you think people write all this stuff about cupcakes or whatever?” I ask.

“It’s not everyone,” Emma says. “I talk about real issues, but only because I’m not afraid to admit when life sucks.” She laughs bitterly. “And my life sucks.”

At the top of the screen, it says “Emma Nelson Jones.” Her picture is small, but I can tell it’s different from the one that was here yesterday. Emma clicks the photo and it enlarges. Now Ms. Jones is standing in front of a white stucco wall, her hands clasped by her waist. She’s wearing a yellow sweater and a gold necklace with the letter E.

Emma Nelson Jones

Last night’s lasagna heated up great, but work is

stressing me out.

2 hours ago · Like · Comment

“That’s odd,” Emma says. “Yesterday, it said I made macaroni and cheese. I wonder why it…” Emma turns to me, her eyes wide. “I bet the mac and cheese at dinner tonight turned me off to it… even in the future.”

I try to suppress a smirk. She’s taking this too far.

I look back at the monitor. “If work is stressing you out, that means you have a job. Weren’t you unemployed yesterday? This is a cause for celebration!”

“You’re right.” Emma touches her finger to the screen and scans down. “It’s all different. None of this was here yesterday.”

“I was teasing,” I say. “It’s a prank, Emma.”

“No, now you’re wrong,” she says. “If it was a prank, nothing would’ve changed between yesterday and today. But everything I did differently today sent little ripples of change into the future. Being in a bad mood this morning, because of this, changed the way I interacted with people when I got to school. And that, fifteen years down the line—”

I laugh. “Ripples of change?”

“It’s something Kellan told me.”

“You told Kellan?”

“Of course not,” Emma says. “I just asked her about time travel from a physics perspective.”

“So something you did today kept you from losing your job in the future. It also made you cook lasagna instead of mac and cheese. Got it.” I wave my hand toward the screen. “Then maybe you’re not married to what’s-his-face anymore either.”

Emma looks at the screen and reads:

Married to Jordan Jones, Jr.

“Unfortunately,” she says, “those ripples didn’t develop into a typhoon.”

“Hurricane Emma. That could do some damage.”

“I know you’re trying to pretend there’s no difference between this and the Goatman,” Emma says, “but didn’t you say you made a stupid face at Sydney Mills today?”