“NO!!!!”
My scream echoes into the empty night as the single figure, otherworldly in the cold light cast by the truck’s headlights, stumbles, then falls. I am dying inside as I watch the boy seeing the truck, reaching, crawling, desperately clutching at cracks and pebbles, anything to help him escape. I will him to stand up, to run, to GET OUT OF THE WAY! as the truck keeps coming closer, closer, and though the world has slowed, until every second is an hour, I know he’s too slow, he’s too slow, it’s taking too long, he won’t make it. And I can’t help him. He will die.
“NOOO!!!!” I wail in despair as my heart breaks into a million fragments. No!! Make it stop!!! Why him?!?! Why me?!?! What did I do?!?!? Whatever it was, I’M SORRY! I TAKE IT BACK!!!!!
I’m collapsing on the ground now, and it seems to me that the world begins to spin, and I have the strangest feeling that time is slowing down, slower, s l o w e r , s l o
w
e


r……..Stop. ...go.

It’s as if all the fear, pain, and desperation I’m feeling just falls off of me, and I stand up, my head spinning, to find I’m surrounded by a rapidly whirling column of gold, and light, and wind, and color, and sound. I reach out and gently touch the swirling wall, and it flows around my hand like water in a stream. It isn’t warm or cool, but somewhere in between, and it has the texture of many things, like melted ice cream and blankets and grains of sand all mixed together. The sounds of music and laughter and talking are bright and obvious, but slightly muffled, as if coming from outside. I realize I hear shouting, angry shouting, and the weird thing is, it sounds like my voice. Curious, I move forwards and part the golden wind with my hands like a curtain, and see the world beyond, hazy and shimmering, as if I’m watching it through a thick pane of glass. Wanting to see more, I take a step into the column, and the floor beneath my feet falls away. I start to cry out, but the swirling air catches me, so I feel as if I’m being held up by a cloud as we sweep down until I’m almost upon the earth below. The part of the column that’s in front of me has cleared away, so it is open to the world outside, though my feet don’t quite reach the ground.
Carefully, I try to step down, but it feels as though I am stepping off a cliff, and I swiftly pull back. Somehow, I doubt the air would have let me go, anyways. It seems to have a mission, and that mission involves me. So I relax and turn my attention to my new view.
Outside, there is a girl, with a pale blue jacket and light almond hair, standing on a rock. She’s shouting. I can see her and her surroundings clearly, yet somehow I can tell it’s actually dark. As I listen closer, I begin to understand what she’s saying. “I can’t believe this!”, she’s yelling. “What could I have done? ...how..how can you just leave me here?”, she demands, her voice trailing off. I turn to see she’s directing her fury at a boy, about her age, who has run onto a nearby road, as if to get away from her.
It’s weird, but I feel as if I am watching a movie, and not only an interesting movie, but a familiar one. I know these people, this scene, but I can’t say from where. And I don’t remember why things are happening, or what comes next. It’s like picking up a book you’ve read a long time ago, you can’t remember the plot, but when you start to read, everything falls back into place, page by page.
I bite my lip, concern for these intriguing strangers rushing through me, as I wait to see what happens next, what I will find on the next page, but the page never turns.

Instead, I feel an odd sensation of traveling backwards, and when it stops, it seems as if the cloud and I have traveled back to a moment before we arrived! The boy is now back on the girl’s side of the road, facing her.
“I can’t trust you!” he tells her, tears dripping down his cheeks, one of which is sporting a nasty bruise. “You knew about them, and you didn’t tell me! It’s like one minute we’re best friends, and the next I don’t exist! I just can’t hang out with you anymore. Goodbye.” The way he says it is terrible, final. My heart aches for them: the boy, now fleeing towards the road, and the girl, alone and bewildered, abandoned by her friend.
I wonder if I could maybe call out to them, tell the boy to come back, change the scene, but when I try, my voice is quieter than it should be, as if the wind around me is catching it, sending it back. Watch, it seems to whisper, listen. You should see this, you should know. Watch how it happened, the golden stream tells me. So I do, and...

...here it comes again, the feeling of leaving and coming back, in a different time. It feels like walking backwards, only I have even less of a clue where I’ll end up. When the rainbow whirlwind around me calms, my suspicion that we are traveling back in time is confirmed. We are earlier. Now, the sky, while still speckled with stars, is a pale cobalt instead of pitch black. It could just be the next night, but some mystical sense in me knows it’s the same day. The boy is still here, and after a couple seconds, I find the girl, too, hiding just around a corner. The grassy roadside is replaced with hay bales and barns, the nearest of which is bursting with loud music and colorful lights, and rowdy shouts and cheers came spilling out into the twilight silence.
Once again, I have the weird feeling of somehow knowing stuff I shouldn’t. I’m aware that they are on their first church youth group retreat, far from home, with plenty of opportunities to get into lots of adventures- and trouble. Judging by the scene, I’d say it’s probably the latter.
The boy is surrounded by a gang of kids, most of whom much larger than he is, and all of whom look dangerous. I watch as one of them yanks the hat off the boy’s head and tosses it to another.
“Hey, gimmie that back!” the boy laughs casually, smoothing down his hair.
“No way, dude, I’m keeping it!” the guy holding his hat scoffs rudely, and shoves it in his pocket.
“No, seriously, guys, can I have my hat back?” the boy asks, a concerned look creeping across his face.
“No!” The first kid is talking now, and as the boy turns to face him, the tough boy advances until they are far too close. “Listen, Lance, did you really think we would just let you barge your way into our group and let you take over?” he sneers, glaring at the boy, who I guess must be Lance. “Did you really fall for that? ‘Cause if you did, you’re as much of an idiot as you look! Starting to get it now, knucklehead?” he continues, taking another step forwards. “You’re no cool kid- just a new toy. Unfortunately, we tend to break our toys.”
Now Lance is backing away, terrified. The kids are closing in, pushing him down. The swirling column now moves just slightly to show me how the girl is hesitating behind the barn wall, unsure what to do. I wait to hear her thoughts in my head, or have a magic thought bubble appear above her or something, but nothing happens. I would think that she would jump out there and defend Lance (though since they’re all twice her size, she probably wouldn’t accomplish much), but if the things I saw a few minutes ago really are their future, I’m guessing she won’t. Surely enough, she moves. The conflict and pain are clear on her face as she turns and walks away.

Suddenly, we’re moving again, and then the bright music and noisy chatter emanating from the barn surround me, catching me off guard. I squint through the disco lights and boisterous crowd, searching for a sign of where or when I am. I find the deep blue sky visible in the gap between the doors, which hints at just ten or fifteen minutes before. I start to look for the girl and Lance, when I realize they’re onstage! Up at the front of the room, the two of them are rocking on a Band Hero game I assume was set up by the employees here. The girl is singing a song I vaguely recognize, though I can’t place where I’ve heard it before. Lance is banging away at the tiny drum set. They’re both ridiculously happy. When the song finishes, they tell the employee they’ve had enough for tonight, and jump off the stage. The girl beams at Lance, who smiles right back. They maneuver through the crowd until they find a quiet (or as quiet as you can get, with the crowd shouting like crazy!) corner, where they pull over some hay bales and sit down together.
“That was amazing.” breathes the girl as she grins at Lance.
“Yeah! Want to do this again tomorrow?” he replies cheerfully.
“Of course! You know, it’s really hard to believe we’ll be back at school on Monday.”
“Yeah. It’s closer to normal for me, though, ‘cause all the guys from Mrs. Dearton’s class are here, too.”
“Yeah, about them. . . I’ve got something to tell you.” she says, as if whatever she knows is a dangerous secret. Is she going to warn him about the guys ditching him in a few minutes? Will he listen? I lean in, knowing this is important.
“Oh, wait, that reminds me!” Lance exclaims, jumping up. “I promised I would meet them outside at eight! See you later!” He scoops up his jacket and bounces away energetically, oblivious to the crestfallen girl on the hay bale.

This time it happens, I find that we’ve gone even farther back, to several hours before. The sun is shooting it’s golden-red rays across the peaceful countryside, but few people stop to notice the sunset, as the eager kids who have just arrived are clustered around their group leaders.
“Now, everyone, remember to be back at your cabins by 11! Anyone out after that will be in serious trouble. Understand?” the tall man holding a bunch of paperwork announces. Once he is greeted by a chorus of ‘yeah, sure’s, he continues.
“The game room, snack bar, corn maze, and karaoke will be open until 10:45. Please stay in groups of no fewer than three, and if you get lost, just talk to one of the employees, who are wearing these lovely green shirts. Be safe and have fun!”
The instant he finishes, everyone scatters, making beelines for the activities. I notice that the majority of the kids are heading to the corn maze, while the rest split up to hit the game and snack bar. Only two people curiously eye the karaoke barn: Lance and the girl.
“So, um, do you want to do karaoke, then?” Lance asks awkwardly, gesturing to the barn.
“Uh, yeah,” she replies, equally hesitant. “It. . .sounds like fun.”
“Cool, I mean, I like karaoke too. Really just any music. . . yeah. Uh, ladies first,” he stammers, then follows her as she slowly approaches the barn doors and the music inside.

Up next is a van with afternoon sunshine pouring in the windows: they’re driving to the retreat! The girl sits in the far back, arms crossed, a bored frown on her face as she stares out the window. In front of her, several of the boys who had turned on, or I guess, are going to turn on Lance are in front of her, chatting quietly.
“I’ll tell Lance to meet us at eight ’o clock, okay? Just act like everything is cool at first.”
The kids nod conspiratorially, and the girl leans forwards, listening...

Since everything so far has been the same day and the same place, I’m caught off guard when the sparkling column brings me really far back, to a week before. I find myself in a classroom full of students and expensive-looking computers. It looks a lot like the glimpse of my school’s computer lab I saw one time, and I wonder if it’s the same room. That would explain so much! If I’ve seen these kids in the halls at school before, it’s no wonder they seem familiar! But then I recall how not only the people but the scene, the events also give me deja vu. And as far as I know, I’ve never gotten into a big fight or played Band Hero or gone to church youth retreats before. Weird.
Shaking off these thoughts, I focus on the scene unfolding. Apparently I missed something the teacher said, because now all the kids are swirling around the room, talking loudly. When I notice everyone is pairing up, I realize they must be getting into groups for a project or something. I remember the girl and Lance talking about school, and wonder if they’re in the same class. Sure enough, I quickly spot the girl motioning for someone to come join her. I look. It’s Lance! Huh? But at the retreat, it seemed like they barely knew each other! The awkwardness last scene was palpable! Suddenly, my questions are answered when he glances her direction, notices her, and pretends he didn’t. He very carefully avoids looking in her direction as he asks another boy to be his partner. The girl is left confused and hurt on the far side of the classroom. Yet this only creates a new flood of queries. Why is he avoiding her? How do they know each other?
. . . And why am I seeing all this? It occurs to me to wonder why I’m the one the golden cloud has chosen to tell this story to. I wonder if I could be magical too, but when I remember my own life, I recall no strange occurrences, only perfectly normal years of childhood.
I try to focus on the last clear memory I have, and reach a single moment, walking into Mrs. Dearton’s class on the first day of school. I’m hurrying through the door, clutching my books, when-
Mrs. Dearton! That was the teacher Lance mentioned after karaoke! We’re in the same class! Am I classmates with the girl, too? Am I friends with either of them? I don’t know.
A vague picture of the first scene comes floating through my consciousness, and now I see a truck on the small road. Headed for Lance. Oh no! Does he get hit? Will he . . . . Is. . . is it my job to save him? Will I? Can I? For the first time, I’m upset by the golden walls around me, leaving me helpless. I will the cloud to set me free. Soon, comes the response. We’re almost done. There’s just a bit more left to see.

Next comes a classroom I haven’t seen before, but bits and pieces of it seem familiar. I tune into my strange sixth sense and learn it’s Mrs. Dearton’s room! All the students are bent over their papers, working furiously on a long essay. The row of desks closest to the door is filled, with Lance in the middle. To his right are the cruel boys from the retreat, to his left, the girl. She glances over at Lance writing next to her, smiling shyly. The affectionate look has a sort of anxiety to it, as if she’s afraid she’s not good enough for him, or something. This must be why, when Lance asks for her opinion on a difficult sentence, she shrugs, mumbling “I dunno.” She then pretends to be deeply engrossed in her work, not seeing Lance’s tiny frown as he returns to his paper.

Then we’re back in the computer lab, a week in the past. It’s the first day of school, but the last class of the day. The teacher reads off a list of names and points to the student’s new seats as she goes. It’s taking a while, and I begin to space out, staring blankly at the posters decorating the walls. When I realize with a jolt that class has begun, I find that Lance and the girl’s assigned seats are right next to each other. They smile at each other as they sit.
“Hi.” the girl says quietly.
“Hi! I’m Lance Boltern. Aren’t we in Mrs. Dearton’s class together?” he asks.
“Yeah, I think so.” she replies, more confidently. “My name’s Sarah, Sarah Quigley.”
I freeze. Could it be? Am I the girl? I stare at the girl I’ve been watching, whose life and future I’ve seen, and realize she’s wearing my favorite shirt. The one I wore on the first day of school, in my most recent memory. Me. Sarah Quigley.
Now that I think about it, I’m not really surprised. This girl looks and talks so much like me, and the vague memories I have of her life suddenly make so much more sense! She is me. I am her. But am I, the girl in my hovering, time-traveling column of wind, and color, and sound, and gold; her past, or her future?
I look at my hands to see that they’re muddy and flecked in places with blood. They must have gotten this way from falling off the rock I was standing on when I was fighting with Lance. Faint glimpses of those moments come to me: my screaming, the headlights of the truck, Lance’s attempts to stand. The attempts that I know aren’t quick enough. Is Lance really destined to die? I won’t let myself believe it could be true. Or has all that already happened, and we’re just going to keep traveling backwards, to the beginning of time itself? No, that’s not it.
Actually, I think that maybe my desperate pleas as I stood on the side of the road last night brought about this adventure, like I asked for my life to be rewound, back to the start of this whole story. And I can feel in my heart, just as the cloud told me, it’s almost time to start again. Soon, we’ll hit play. So as Lance and I begin their computer class, chatting and joking around together, my magical cloud and I rewind to the beginning.

When I left the computer lab, I was scared, desperate, and, well, scared. What if I’m wrong? What if everything just gets really messed up? I’m afraid that I won’t be able to go back to my body, to my life, and if I do, what if I can’t change anything? I don’t know Lance, not really, but I could never just let him die, especially if I become friends with him like I do in the future the column showed me. Especially if his death is partially my fault.
We reach Mrs. Dearton’s room for what I know is the final time, just as the girl, the other me, settles into the empty seat next to Lance. He looks up, but she doesn’t respond, so he goes back to arranging his things. I wince. This is how it all began.

But then, quietly and swiftly, my sorrow disappears, and once again I feel the peace I did when the air first lifted me up. I admire it’s beauty, it’s impossibility, it’s helpfulness, and it’s kindness. Because I know that it’s helped me, and is letting me now go free.

We zip nimbly down to the front of the class, to where a young me is hurrying into the room. We seem to kind of overlap her, then morph into her body. I smile as my feet touch the ground, and the dirt and blood melts away.
I’m not sure what to expect with the cloud now; will it explode, dissolve, or just vanish with a puff of smoke? Answer: none of the above. What it does is both unexpected, and beautiful. My chest swells with wonder and joy as it melts into my surroundings peacefully and silently. The wind becomes the salty August breeze blowing through the open window; the textures, the cool plastic chairs and firm fuzzy carpet; the sounds, classmates and future friends talking and giggling; the colors, bright t-shirts and inspirational posters; until finally all that is left is the color gold, which glitters in the afternoon sunshine spilling down on us. It lends a magical quality to the air as the class takes their seats, and I wonder if any of them notice the sunshine. I wonder how it’ll affect their classes, their days, their lives.
I don’t have to wonder how it affected my life. And I’ll never again have to wonder if I can affect anything.
Lance looks up. I smile at him. He smiles back, and I sit down, bursting with happiness, knowing I’ve just made his day, not to mention saved his life.