5. Summer Nebula: I Met a Crazy Person from the Future
In early spring of 2009. I was spacing out in the hallway when a girl walked up and told me she was from the future, and that in the summer of 2009, I would die.
I was quite startled, because there didn't seem to be any recent news about psychiatric hospitals discharging patients prematurely. I said, "I'll humor you for now, but who exactly are you?"
She said, "I transferred into your class last period. I'm Holly."
I said, "I was sweeping the hallway as punishment last period. No wonder I didn't see you."
She said, "Do something meaningful with your life. Otherwise, when you die, everyone will remember you as either wiping windows or sweeping floors. People who don't know better will think you're the janitor."
I said, "I'm passionate about this environmental cause."
She said, "You're still as mouthy as ever."
I perked up and said, "In the future, am I rich? How many wives do I have?"
She shook her head and said, "You die in July. The weeds on your grave are already tall."
I said, "And how exactly are you planning to save me?"
She said, "The basic rule of time travel is that you cannot change the course of history."
I said, "So."
She said, "So?"
I said, "So you're just here to watch me die?"
She thought about it and said, with surprising earnestness, "Yep."
I turned my head away and ignored her.
01
Whether Holly was actually from the future was an open question. Several times I went looking for her, and before I could even open my mouth, she'd pat my shoulder and say with dead seriousness, "Dude, you're going to die anyway, so don't ask me about the final exam questions, okay?" Or she'd look at me like I was mentally challenged and say, "If I knew the winning lottery numbers, do you think I'd walk to school every day?"
Being a high schooler was boring. Chatting with a crazy person was way more interesting. I made up my mind to dig out my cause of death from her before summer arrived. Of course, the whole dying thing — I didn't believe a word of it. I was sixteen, and firmly believed I would be young forever. If anyone was going to die, it'd be the whole world dropping dead before me.
I walked over, knocked on her desk, and asked, "Tell me, what's the relationship between you and the dead version of me?"
She said, "Friends."
I said, "What kind of friends?"
She said, "What do you think?"
I said, "The kind where I owe you a lot of money?"
She said, "Go buy me a soda and I'll tell you about it."
I dashed downstairs at top speed, bought a Coke, and ran back panting, only to find Holly sitting by the window, staring dreamily at the school athletic field.
Holly took a sip of Coke, carefully twisted the cap back on, and started talking.
She said, "You and I were high school classmates. The summer of sophomore year, you died. Cause of death — I can't tell you."
I said, "I know, can't change the course of history."
I thought for a moment, then said, "Wait, doesn't that mean there are two of you in class right now?"
She said, "Yes."
I looked around and said, "Where? Where?"
She said, "Stop looking. I changed my name. Got plastic surgery too."
I said, "You really went all out."
She said, "It was worth it."
I said, "Just to watch me die? Good lord, I'm an upstanding student who loves learning, what did I ever do to you?"
She paused, looked down, and said, "Don't ask."
02
Could it be that the dead version of me had done something to her? I wondered this because — was getting executed for public indecency even a thing?
Holly always seemed to feel guilty around me. Once, out of curiosity, I touched her face and asked, "Holly, where'd you get it done? It looks totally real." She didn't slap me dead like other girls would have. Instead, she turned her head and said, "Stop messing around. Go buy me a Coke."
She really liked Coke. And I really liked skipping class. Our teacher noticed we were close, so whenever I disappeared, she'd tell Holly, "Go drag Leo back." Holly would come trotting up to the rooftop of the school building in her ponytail, where I'd be lying on a plastic mat, sunbathing.
She said, "What are you doing?"
I said, "Photosynthesizing."
She walked over and sat down beside me. "Scoot over. You're blocking my sun."
I tossed her a Coke. She looked a little surprised.
I said, "Drink up. Just bought it."
She held the bottle up to the sun and looked at it. The clouds in our small town were plentiful, and the afternoon light wasn't too harsh.
She said, "The cap's already open."
I said, "Opened it for you."
She said, "You didn't spit in it, did you?"
I said, "Ma'am, I was worried you couldn't twist it open."
She took a sip and said, "Thanks."
She stretched her arms out, propping herself on the ground, gazing up at the white clouds.
I said, "Hey, did the dead version of me skip class too?"
She said, "Yeah. You skipped so much class that your detention schedule was booked all the way to graduation."
I said, "I'm flattered."
She said, "How is that a compliment? Right after you died, the teacher would still bring you up from time to time — 'That kid didn't even finish sweeping the floor before he left.'"
I said, "And then?"
She said, "Then nobody mentioned you anymore."
I said, "Damn, my body wasn't even cold and everyone already forgot about me?"
She said, "People studying for exams were busy, people teaching were busy. Everyone was busy."
I thought about it. According to her version, it was almost like I'd been frozen in that summer. Death, seen that way, had a certain romance to it. I'd be forever in that summer, popsicle in mouth, watching my friends grow up, while I remained suspended at sixteen, carefree, going nowhere.
A breeze blew through the small town. Holly pushed her hair back.
I said, "Holly, what you're saying sounds more and more real."
Holly didn't say anything.
I said, "After I died, what happened to my mom and dad?"
Holly looked down and said, "Your parents got divorced."
The breeze kept blowing through the small town.
I suddenly felt the air around me solidify.
I propped myself up halfway, looked into her eyes. She met my gaze, expressionless — or rather, with her trademark dead-fish stare.
I said, "Holly, you really are from the future, aren't you?"
03
My parents' divorce — they'd been keeping it a secret. If I hadn't accidentally found the divorce papers in their room, I probably would have gone my whole life without knowing. I'd just wake up one day to find a note beside me: "Son, you're a grown-up now. The rest is up to you. Love you, mwah." And I'd find myself lying in a junkyard, completely bewildered.
The divorce agreement stated that once I got into college, their marriage would automatically dissolve.
From then on, I developed the fine habit of skipping class. I'd turn in blank exams and sleep through lessons. It wasn't self-destruction — I simply refused to go to college. I'd spend eight or ten years in high school and see which of us three could outlast the others.
You'd think my dedication would earn me at least one broken leg from the old man. But over time, my dad stopped hitting me. I'd hand him a zero-score test, shooting him a "why don't you just beat me to death" look, and he'd sign it and say, "Keep it up, son," before giving me a warm, fatherly glance.
I refused to accept this. I stormed into the kitchen where my mom was cooking and smashed every bottle of aged vinegar and soy sauce.
My mom smiled and said, "Silly child, I'm making instant noodles today."
I finally cracked and ran out of the house screaming, "I don't want instant noodles!"
I wandered the streets. Saturday noon, few people around — probably all home for lunch.
That day, I suddenly wanted to find Holly. Only then did I realize I'd never known where she lived.
04
I spent the afternoon in an internet cafe. Near dusk, I sensed someone standing behind me.
I said, "My gear's not bad, right?"
Holly said, "This game shut down later."
I sighed. "Ma'am, could you not spoil things for me?"
I logged off, bought her a Coke, and we left the cafe, walking along the river. I held a bread roll, nibbling at it absent-mindedly.
I said, "Just curious — where do you actually live?"
She said, "None of your business."
I said, "I'd like to die with some clarity."
She said, "Look on the bright side."
I said, "Okay, thanks. One more question — when I die, do I at least not look disfigured?"
She said, "You look like hot pot."
I thought about it. Well, at least we can rule out fire — if it were fire, I'd look more like a skewer.
We walked to a bench by the river and sat down. Evening was approaching, and the streetlamps had come on. The river breeze came in fits and starts. It was cool here.
I said, "After I die, were all the girls who had secret crushes on me sad?"
She said, expressionless, "That joke was cold."
I scratched my head and said, "What a failure."
Holly said, "Hmm?"
I said, "Good thing I'm dying young. Otherwise my life would've been a real failure."
She suddenly pointed at the river. I looked out — the water stretched wide and calm.
I said, "What about it?"
She said, "Before you die, do something meaningful."
I said, "What does that have to do with the river?"
She said, "My arm was tired. Just stretching."
05
Holly agreed to help me with my parents' divorce situation.