#controltime

At age ten, Beth Wilder woke up with a cautious knot around her throat. It was one of those days, the ones highlighted in the journal passed down from her allegedly future self. She had originally doubted the veracity of the journal entries if not the identity of the mysterious woman, but no matter how much she’d tried to change the outcome it would always happen, as the page themselves told her it would.

This entry, thought, felt so… insignificant, compared to everything else, it puzzled her.

To say that she spent the entire school day stubbornly coming up with ways to avoid her newest prophesy would be an understatement, thinking she finally bested the odds by simply deciding not to take the night bus, but by the time her mother went to pick her home from her evening art classes Beth had to admit the thought simply skipped her mind.

Dangling her legs on the bus seat while trying not to fall asleep on her mom’s shoulder was when it happened. She had been looking around, lulled by the warm humming on the bus when she saw a lanky teen with a black eye sit a couple seats ahead of her, and the handwritten entry came back with full force.

Dang it!

With the grogginess flushed out of her system she straightened her back, feeling for a second the older woman’s hand on her shoulder and, with it, the weight of the entire world. Never mind the fact that it was actually his shoulders the ones that would bare it, but that scrawny guy with pimples on his face didn't look too impressive from where she was sitting.

 Beth studied him for what felt like an eternity, despite the awkward angle. She wondered about his black eye, his torn clothes, his scowl, his involvement in all of... that. She wondered how exactly will she trust him later, he didn't look too trustworthy... 

 As if feeling the intensity of her stare, the teen (Jack) (was it weird that she knew her name? No. She was privy to information of the future, of course she had to know his name) stopped bobbing his head to the music on his headphones for a second, before turning to her with a raised eyebrow. Beth immediately looked outside, flushed with mortification, but in the reflection of the glass she could see the way his gaze shifted from hostility to curiosity and even amusement, his scowl having transformed into a small smile, before closing his eyes again to the music. 

 Beth took one last quick peek at him, feeling the utmost importance of remembering his face, before forcing herself to close her eyes shut and letting her head fall on her mother's shoulder again. She knew that if she didn't stop now, she could stare at him for the rest of the trip. 

By the time her stop approached she scanned the bus one last time, disheartened to see Jack was already gone. Was that it? She scowled. How could it be that he had no idea how important this day was? How could it be that he didn't know… anything! She scowled harder, fuming, and then sighed a heavy sigh. She knew the journal didn't say anything else, but… maybe they could meet again before the date on the page… maybe they could have been friends.

She wondered about the black eye. She wondered if she could ask him about it next time they'll see each other. She'll try to remember.

-

 At age thirteen, Tim Breaker woke up with the strangest of sensations. It wasn't the first time that he had quite vivid dreams, but the past ones had been quite gruesome. He vividly remembers his parents' death. He remembers fighting with a brother he didn't have. He remembers getting in trouble with his best friend, and catching sight of a man killing himself.

 Tim saw something completely different today.

He'd gotten into a fight, in the dream, and then, quiet. A long bus trip where music that he might or might've not listened before in his life accompanied his sulking, until he felt a curious tickling on the back of his neck, and caught a little girl staring at him before looking away, embarrassed. The quality of the memory was muddy at best, time stretching impossibly long for the very few things that happened to fill it, but he remembered that amusement he'd felt back then. The feeling of that quiet exchange easily being the highlight of a shitty day.

 He wondered, not for the first time, why he had those curious dreams. At least this one was neutral, all things considered. 

 He wondered, as he brushed his teeth, if the little girl was real, and then promptly forgot about the whole thing by the time he went to school.

-

 At age fifteen Tim Breaker got into a bus, too wrapped on the science fiction book he started reading to notice anything else around him. He was visiting his Uncle and cousin at the other side of the country, so he knew he had a couple hours until he got there.

 The time came and went, as he occasionally looked up from the pages to rest his eyes on the landscape, on the movie they were airing on the front of the bus, or in his fellow passengers. When the bus stopped at some rural town he looked to the flow of old and new passengers on the station until someone finally caught his eyes.

A person with uneven red hair, and even more uneven clothes waiting on the queue for their bags to be delivered. Shifting on his seat, Tim tried to get a better look at the person, curious, and was surprised to see that she was just a girl, maybe a couple years younger than him. What was she doing there all alone? Maybe she was visiting someone, like he was, but the way nobody seemed to be waiting or looking for her made him uneasy. He was pretty independent himself, but even then he was counting on cousin Sarah to greet him when he arrived to Bright Falls!

 This strange girl made him uneasy for her solitude, her appearance, and, despite himself, for the sensation of dejá vú that evoked in him. Of false recognition. Tim disliked that sensation, it always made him uncomfortable, but there was something else this time. It wasn't until the girl suddenly seemed visually tense for a few seconds, before turning to look back at him with an accusatory yet slightly scared glance, that he realized why she felt so familiar.

She knew that girl. Or at least he'd seen her before. Flashes of his dreams danced on his mind's eye, and between his realization and her catching him in fraganti Tim froze, almost dropping his book in utter shock.

Quickly composing himself under her wild stare he hurriedly picked and opened his book again, pretending to be reading it as he pondered this new information. Could it even be possible to know someone from a dream? Possible or not, Tim distinctly remembered her face, younger and less uneven, in a scene, dreamlike in comparison.

He couldn't help looking at her again to make sure, and despite looking the other way she quickly turned again with a raised eyebrow, as if she sensed his gaze on her somehow, meeting his eyes without that cautious fear he felt in her before. It almost felt like an attempt at intimidation. Tim still felt the unease spreading through his veins at the possible implications of her being real, but her small yet serious demeanor didn't fail to steal a quick laugh from him that he tried to stifle, only to end up smiling apologetically at her. That, miraculously, put her more at ease, and when she granted him a small smile he beamed, nodding in acknowledgment.

Feeling the bus under him start to move was disappointing, and surely that feeling must've been painted on his face, for the mysterious girl to chuckle at him in return with a raised eyebrow. Tim hoped the curiosity he saw as she followed the parting bus with her gaze wasn't just projection.

 Was it weird to know someone from a dream? No, Tim wanted to think, the human mind was capable of so much we weren't aware of (he read so in his stories), that something like this was bound to happen. He just wished it could've happened differently. Now all he could do was wonder about her. About her uneven appearance and paranoid demeanor. About her whereabouts and her solitude. He wondered, a little wistful thinking, if they could have been friends had they both met in different circumstances.