Rewind (Teen Fiction Collection) Read online

  REWIND

  By

  Alanna Irving

  Copyright © 2013 Avryan Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  REWIND

  What would you do if you had the chance, just once, to live 24 hours and then have it erased to start over?

  That’s what happened to me. I can’t tell you too much about how - they forced me to sign a confidentiality agreement and it was clear that things would become very unpleasant for me if I ever told anybody anything specific about them… or the experiment. It began when I answered an ad to take part in a clinical trial for money. That much I can say (or hope I can). I definitely can’t say how I got involved with the ‘Rewind Protocol’. That was what they called the experiment. The trial was only a recruitment scheme…a test. And apparently I passed with flying colours, something about my psyche being malleable and resilient at the same time.

  At first I didn’t believe what they were telling me. It wasn’t until they demonstrated the ‘Rewind Protocol’ that I finally believed and agreed to take part. Oh, of course the money that they offered helped, and when they deposited 50% into my bank account up front, I knew they were very serious. Of course I had misgivings. What if it were all true? What would happen? What if something went wrong? But in the end I set aside my reservations and did it because my family needed the money and because I wanted to do something that mattered. I would become a pioneer of sorts. That’s how I ended up sitting at my desk at 11.54 p.m. that fateful night, knowing that come midnight, everything I did for the following 24 hours would be erased the following day.

  It was a curious feeling. At first, you think the possibilities are endless, you feel like there are so many things you should do with this time that you'll never be able to fit them all in. And then when you start to pin things down, there aren't so many. You struggle to think of something to do. You can’t just act normally, you need a thing to do with this amazing chance that you have. The chance to do well, the chance to see how things would work out, try them and then have them erased. Then, later you can decide whether or not to do those things, after you've already seen the outcome.

  It might not sound like much, but it felt like a lot of power.

  I was sitting at my desk, but my laptop was closed. I was gazing out of the window at the stars above my garden, listening to the tick of the clock by my bed. I suppose I was expecting something to happen at midnight. A shimmer to come over the world, a flash of light, a feeling deep within me that it had started. But nothing happened. I sat there, and watched the seconds count out the minute to midnight, and the minute after. Nothing felt different. How did I know it had worked? How did I know that now was the time to do things, that the things I did from now were the things that were going to be erased?

  Maybe my clock was fast.

  I waited until seven past midnight. It must have started by now. I stood up, and I sat back down again. What should I do? I felt nervous, like the tingling of excitement you get on Christmas Eve. The first thing I thought of was dyeing my hair. If it looked good, I could do it again when time reset, and if it didn’t, well I wouldn’t bother. But it was just after midnight, and I had no hair dye.

  I had to do something though. I had to mark the occasion.

  I went downstairs. In the fridge were the cheesecake muffins my sister had made for her friend's birthday. She was going to take them into school tomorrow for all of her friends to share. She was a good cook, and earlier that evening she had warned me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't to touch them. I had eyed them enviously as she stacked them in the fridge.

  I could have one now. Even if she noticed, it would all be undone in 24 hours. I took one and bit into it, relishing the rebellion. It was good, alright. I wandered around the kitchen as I ate, wondering if anything looked different. I wanted something to mark the fact that these 24 hours were special, but there was nothing.

  My steps led me back to the fridge. On impulse, I took another muffin, and another, one in each hand. The calories would be removed after 24 hours, I reasoned. I sat at the table and ate them quickly, one after the other, and then another two.

  But it wasn't satisfying. I wanted to do something life-changing, world-rocking with this chance. Eventually, I had to resign myself to the fact that I could neither change my life nor rock the world at half past midnight on a Wednesday night. I decided to go to bed. Tomorrow, at school, I would see what this ‘Rewind Protocol’ could do for me.

  As I pulled the blanket over me, I suddenly realised what I was going to. A face swam before me, it was Todd Gallagher. I smiled as I closed my eyes, and let his green eyes and wavy brown hair to lull me to sleep.

  I’d been in love with Todd Gallagher for years. My family moved the summer before high school, and when I started my new school, there he was. I was still a child, still small and skinny and lank, but even back then, he was gorgeous. It was more of a boyish charm he had then, round cheeks and bright eyes and as he got older he only got better. He lost his baby fat and found jawlines that could cut glass; he played a lot of rugby and began to bulk up. He cut his hair very short at about age 14, but thank God he wore it long now. I loved the way it curled around his face. I was head over heels, but who wasn’t? He was a sporting star; he was the most popular guy in school. I had never spoken to him, after all who was I, gawky and nerdy and only just out of braces, to talk to him? He barely knew I existed.

  But that was all going to change. I had been given the gift of being free of consequences. The gift of confidence. Today, I was going to march straight up to him and tell him what I thought of him. I was going to sweep him off his feet. Well, at the very least I would say hello. And if the result was favourable, I’d do it again tomorrow, the real today, the today that would stick, with nothing to hold me back. If it went badly, if he laughed in my face or stared at me in horror, I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I’d know I was doing the right thing staying away.

  I got up early. I never normally wore make-up to school, but today I would risk it. Today I needed it. I had just perfected my work with the mascara wand when my sister’s shriek reached me from downstairs. The cheesecake muffins. Ah.

  “Tara! You swine! I know it was you!” She pounded up the stairs and burst into the bathroom. “What the hell is your problem? You couldn’t stay away for one day? What kind of a fat pig eats five muffins?” I stared at her. I didn’t really have a response. It was a fair point. “Now what am I going to do? There aren’t enough to go around!” Still, I said nothing. My sister gave a small roar of frustration and pushed me backwards, “I hate you, I actually hate you!” she spat, and stormed out.

  When I went down for breakfast, Mum wasn’t looking happy.

  “That was just spiteful, Tara,” she said. “You didn’t need to take all of those. Can’t you give some back?” I shook my head guiltily. “You actually ate all of them? Honestly, Tara, that’s no way to behave.” And she carried on unstacking the dishwasher, slamming plates and cups into the cupboard rather more forcefully than was strictly necessary.

  Not a good start to the day. Of course, it would all be erased, and Mum and Jennifer would never know they had ever been angry with me, but it put me out of sorts. And I needed to be completely
in sorts for my mission today.

  I was quiet on the bus on the way to school. I felt I was guarding a huge secret, a huge gift that I wasn’t going to share with anyone. I wondered what would happen if I told my friends that everything today was going to be erased and reset. They’d laugh at me, probably. Why would they believe me?

  But what if they did? What if they joined me? We’d have so much more fun with this secret together than I would alone. And still I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep this for myself. I wanted to see where it could take me.

  My best friend Nat was waiting for me by the lockers. I went over to her but my eyes were fixed on Todd, down the corridor, talking to his rugby mates.

  “Someone’s made an effort,” Nat said, eyeing me up and down. My hair was released from its usual ponytail, and I’d rolled my skirt up and worn non-regulation shoes, the ones with a kitten heel and a pointy toe that I’d convinced myself made my legs look better when I walked. On impulse, I undid another button on my shirt. “What’s got into you?” Nat said, looking incredulous.

  “I have decided, my dear Natalie, to seize the day.” I felt untouchable, invincible, like I could walk on the clouds. I grabbed Natalie on either side of the head and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Watch this.”

  “You’re crazy,” she called after me. She didn’t know how crazy.

  Nobody really paid me any attention as I strutted, yes, strutted, down the corridor. Even when I was right in front of Todd and his mates, it was a good few seconds before anyone registered my presence. Gradually the conversation petered out and they all stared at me.

  My throat went dry. Absolved from consequences I may have been, but that didn’t change the fact that I was a shrinking violet when it came to situations like this. I tried to tell myself to be confident, but it felt like telling my hand to grow an extra finger. It’ll all be over soon, I told myself. Midnight tonight and none of this ever happened. You can deal with it.

  I tossed my hair, like I’d seen girls do on TV.

  “Todd, right?” I said, looking him straight in the eye. My heart was pounding painfully. Surely he could hear it?

  “Er, yeah.” Around him, his mates were beginning to snicker.

  “How about coffee this afternoon?” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I gave him what I hoped was a sultry look. “My treat.”

  “Um, I don’t think so,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh, as from behind me walked Becky Lane, Todd’s tall, blonde, beautiful girlfriend. She wound her arm around his neck.

  “Yes?” she said, her blue eyes wide and blinking. “Can we help you?”

  No consequences, I thought. You’ve only got one shot at this, don’t walk away now. I could have punched her. I wanted to know exactly how sweet the satisfaction would feel. But I was here to get a realistic idea of what would happen if I approached Todd. My mind scrabbled for some way of saving the situation.

  “Only,” I said hurriedly, “We’ve been paired up for that English presentation, I thought we could discuss it. Over coffee.”

  ”What English presentation?”

  “Oh, you were away last lesson. Did nobody tell you? We were assigned projects.” Becky began running her fingers through his hair, head on one side and foot tapping impatiently. Todd obediently put his arm around her waist.

  “Right. Well. I guess I’ll just talk to you about it in class,” Todd said pointedly. I shrugged. Nonchalant, not a care in the world. Don’t mess it up now, just act cool.

  “Sure. See you in class.”

  I walked away slowly, telling myself not to rush, willing my shoes not to slip off my feet, wondering how I was going to get my real partner for the presentation to switch for me.

  “Absolutely mad,” Nat said wonderingly. “What on earth possessed you?” I shrugged. I was still trying to act cool but under it all my heart was racing.

  “Life is short. You have to make things happen, can’t sit around waiting for them.”

  “You just had an epiphany last night? I’ve never seen such a transformation. Practically instantaneous.”

  We were walking to our first class, arm in arm as usual. I began to giggle. Some sort of adrenaline rush. It was contagious, and soon Nat and I were laughing together.

  “Tara Craik!” It was my history teacher. “What on earth are you wearing?”

  “Um, my uniform, miss,” I said.

  “You most certainly are not. What sort of shoes do you call those?” It wasn’t really a question that needed answering, so I didn’t. “I wouldn’t expect this of you, Tara, but as it’s a first offense I will give you a warning. Next time, it’s detention. Now go to the bathroom and wash all that ridiculous muck off your face.”

  “Yes, miss,” I said, and bowed my head and scuttled away. I knew she was watching, so I had no choice but to go into the bathroom. I had no intention of taking my make up off. I hated being told off by teachers, and it didn’t happen very often. I was a good girl. But, I kept telling myself, in less than twenty-four hours, this never happened.

  “I don’t know what has got into you, Tara” Nat said. “You’re like a completely different person.” I chose to take that as a compliment.

  I decided to cool it off a bit the next time I spoke to Todd. No need to come on so strong. We had English fourth period, and we really were meant to be discussing our presentations. With my new-found confidence I bribed my partner and Todd’s intended partner to work together - and to my surprise it worked. So Todd and I had a whole hour to talk.

  He seemed a bit nervous of me. I forced myself to act laid-back and relaxed, and after a while he seemed to settle down. Once I even made him laugh. God, he had a great laugh. I felt myself blush, and looked away.

  I left class with his number - Todd Gallagher’s number! - and plans to meet up over the weekend to work on our project. I was buzzing. I was definitely going to re-do this when time reset. Maybe without the shaky start. Who knew how far you could get just by being bold? I was Todd Gallagher’s project partner and we were going to meet up on the weekend. You couldn’t have taken the smile off my face with a wet fish.

  And then there was Becky Lane, blocking the door in front of me. Her expression was dark.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said. It was almost a snarl, and it turned her face ugly.

  “Trying to leave,” I said politely.

  “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, or why you think you can throw yourself all over my boyfriend, but stay the hell away, ok?”

  I wish I could say that what I did next I did because of years of bullying, teasing, being downtrodden and treated badly. It would have been better, I suppose, as the culmination of long-harboured resentment, rather than spontaneous recklessness. But the truth is, Becky Lane didn't have a history of bullying me, not even the odd snide comment as I passed. She'd never said anything to me, nor I to her. She wasn’t the nicest person, if you believed the gossip in the corridors, but the two of us, we'd never had anything to do with each other.

  But when else was I going to get the chance to do this with no consequences? I’d always wondered what it'd be like to hit someone.

  I slapped Becky Lane, open handed, across the face.

  I suppose I wasn't thinking straight. I was drunk on power, on freedom. While she was still staring at me, agog, I was thinking, 'that didn't feel right, it wasn't satisfying enough', and wanting to know what it was like to punch someone. And then my hand was curling into a fist and I had done it, I had punched her in the stomach. For absolutely no reason.

  I was aghast. I was shocked and appalled with myself. I had never considered myself a violent person, and here I was, feeling good. Yes It had felt good, in a bad, powerful find of way. I was ashamed. When the teachers came and dragged me to the principal, I let them. I listened to him rant, I agreed with everything he said. I had no excuse for why I’d done it.

  It’s all going to go away, I told myself. In less than 12 hours this never happen
ed, I never hit Becky Lane for no reason.

  As I walked to detention, I felt the stares and whispers following me. I had become infamous. I would have felt uncomfortable, but it wasn't going to last. Just this once, I would revel in it, and then I’d go back to normality, to quiet, inconsequential little me.

  I felt my back straighten ever so slightly as I walked.

  Don't get me wrong, I'm not a heartless person. I wasn't proud of hitting Becky Lane, it’s just that it wasn't real. In a few hours, it never happened, so why worry about it? It’s not like I’d do it again if it was for real.

  I felt exhilarated, to tell you the truth. I still had my cloak of invincibility on, and I felt like I could take on anything. Me, who was apt to get teary if anyone raised their voice, staring down the chastising teachers with my chin raised, sitting here in detention like it didn't matter a whit.

  And then I grew discontented. Why was I sitting here in detention, when I only had a few hours left? I glanced at the clocks. Less than 8 hours. I had to use them, I couldn't waste them sitting here in detention, being punished for something that I wouldn't have ever done - tenses got a bit muddled that day.

  I stood up. I had found out what it was like to hit someone. There was so much else to find out. What was there that I’d never do in real life that I could try out now? Nothing in here, that's for sure. I had to get out of here.

  I strode boldly towards the door. The supervising teacher stood up, and asked me where I thought I was going. I smiled brightly at him.

  “Sorry, Mr Denver, I have to leave now.”

  “You can’t just walk out of here, you're in detention.”

  Oh it was glorious to be able to do and say exactly what you wanted. No repercussions, no consequences - none that stuck, anyway. Just a completely free reign.

  “Yeah, sorry, I'm kind of over that,” I said. “I have places to be.”

  I don't blame him for getting riled up at my tone. It’s not a way I would have spoken to anyone, especially a teacher, in normal circumstances. He stepped right in front of me and his face was slowly turning an attractive shade of puce.