how much would you pay

for a book with what everyone

thinks about you at every time?

and how much sleep would you lose

reading and rereading it

every single night?

how much would you pay

for eternal life

to live forever and ever?

and how much time would you waste

wishing you would die

as everyone around you leaves together?

how much would you pay

to be as skinny as your friends

to stop those three meals a day?

and how many ER visits would you make

crying with no end

wishing your body away?

how much would you pay

to be the most popular kid in school

with everyone knowing your name?

and how much stress would you endure

with all those eyes on you

and the hate that comes with fame?

how long will you

wish you were perfect

just like everybody else?

how long will you

strive for impossible

before you learn to love yourself?

in kindergarten

you sat alone at lunch.

i felt bad

so i said hi.

and we were inseparable after that.

but we went

to different middle schools.

you said you were excited

to meet again in highschool

and i was too.

so when i saw you

on the first day of ninth grade,

sitting with other people at lunch,

i was proud of you.

so i said hi.

and you called me ugly

you called me desperate.

you texted me later

saying i misinterpreted your comment

you were just joking.

but you and i both know that's bullshit,

isn't it?

the truth is

you're embarrassed to

be my friend

in front of your new ones.

so that's all i am then?

you just used me

in elementary

to get popularity

'cause i was popular

and you were an outcast

you were my best friend

but was i yours?

i loved you

'cause you were awesome

guess you "loved" me

'cause i was popular

you used me to climb

the social status

but now you have them

you don't need me

i'm a threat to your

popularity.

so now you make up lies

to make them hate me.

and

even though

you've been

through hell with me

you're drunk

on jealousy.

friends aren't like playing cards

you trade and exchange

we aren't

money,

honey.

but you think

it's funny.

i wonder if they know

what a bitch you are.

that you'll leave them

when you find someone

more poplular.

I awoke to the sound of beeping. White. Everything was white. And...crying? Then clearer—someone weeping in the corner, someone...familiar. A lady wearing white comforted her.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do. She's braindead."

Poor woman. I tried to sit up to comfort her, but...nothing's moving. I felt cold as realization struck me.

Mom!

The nurse ushered Mom out, then walked towards me. I desperately tried making eye contact, telling her I wasn't braindead, but she wouldn't look at me. A wild fear built up inside of me. Stop!

She pulled a plug from the wall, and everything went black.

i want to trust you

i always did

but you've done things

i can't forget.

you say you're sorry

and you seem sorry

you don't seem like

you'd do it again,

but then again

you've never seemed like

you'd do it

in the first place,

until you did.

so how do i know

this time is different?

is it bad to say

i still love you?

after all the shit you've done

that can't be undone

you say you're sorry

and i believe you

maybe i'm naive

maybe i want to believe

you.

and

is it bad to say

i'm grieving too?

because the you

i thought i knew

isn't you.

there's two of you

in my mind:

the one i loved

and thought was kind,

and the one who's

done

terrible things.

yeah there's two of you

and i don't know

which one

is really you.

it feels like there's two sides

and no in between.

the other side is evil

don't agree with them

you can only condemn

no exceptions.

but

productivity stops

where

hostility begins.

you can't convince someone

through insults.

you convince someone

through respect.

and

admitting you're wrong

doesn't make you look dumb

it shows you're mature

so stop being so defensive.

because

god, i am sick

i am so, so sick

of these assumptions

and interruptions

and straw man arguments

because

people on the internet

just preach to the choir.

they make videos

about the other side

but not for the other side

meant for their own side

to point and laugh at.

don't you realize:

you're fueling the divide?

because

then the other side

sees your videos

the hatred grows

furthing those

beliefs that you are evil.

so

stop assuming

stop insulting

be respectful

be productive

and maybe we can mend,

maybe we can end

the fight that tears apart families

and friendships.

that tears apart our nation

as a whole.

i got my test scores back.

turns out i'm in the top five percent.

but not the top one.

not the top one.

they say

it's not a contest

but

if my best is not

the best of the best

then

what am i even doing here?

i know some people

didn't even try

but i, i tried

and i messed up.

i'm not used to this

it's not supposed to be hard

it's never been hard

for me.

on all days

i've always

been the best

of the rest,

but not today.

not today.

simply "better than average" is not enough

i need to be the best

i think i'd die

if i

were only

average.

---------

another test

another f.

everyone thinks

i'm lazy

but maybe

i really am trying.

they just have to believe me.

i put in the hours

i put in the work

but this class

is too fast

i'm past

my limit.

i always been

the worst one

i'm so dumb

i'm so done.

they just shrug me off

and call me stupid

but no one stops to think,

when i fail,

what if you did?

i'm tired of

just barely getting by

god, i'd kill to be

average.

“Jenna turned forty earlier today,” Mom told me as I sat down across from her at the dinner table.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, pickup up my fork and playing with my food. We had spaghetti, again, but I couldn’t blame Mom. She always made spaghetti when she was tired. I had never met Jenna—my existence had to be kept a secret from everyone—but I knew she was Mom’s best friend since childhood.

Anya skipped into the dining room and sat in the chair next to mine. She was only seven years old, which meant she was even more illegal than me, a fifteen year old. She frowned as she saw both of our somber faces. “What happened?”

“Jenna turned forty,” I explained, trying not to remind myself who else would be turning forty soon.

“Who’s Jenna?”

Mom looked up at Anya, her silky white hair gleaming in the harsh light above us. “My friend.”

“Your friend? Why would you make friends with someone so much older than you?” Anya shoved a heap of spaghetti into her mouth, muffling the last part of the sentence.

I leaned back on the chair and closed my eyes. “Jenna’s less than a month older than Mom.”

Anya’s eyes went wide, and silence passed over the table before she finally spoke. “What? How old is Mom?!”

I glanced at the clock on our wall. It was 18:22. “Thirty-nine years, eleven months, thirteen days, ten hours, and three minutes.”

At that, Anya bawled on the spot, her tears splattering the spaghetti. Mom got up from her chair, walked over to Anya’s chair, and hugged her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m still here.”

Anya sniffled. “How—how long until you’re forty?”

Now it was 18:23. My eyes burned, and tears threatened to fall. “Seventeen days, thirteen hours, and fifty-six minutes.”

“Seventeen days?!” Anya wailed. “That’s too short!”

Mom squeezed Anya tighter. I wished she could do that with me. “I know, honey, I know. Soraiya will take care of you, don’t worry.”

I suddenly felt angry. Of course I had to take care of Anya—who else would? But who would take care of me? I was only fifteen. It wasn’t supposed to be my responsibility. Adults weren’t allowed to have children after they turned twenty-two—kids needed to be eighteen before at least one parent turned forty.

My mother, of course, had me at twenty-four, and had Anya at thirty-one. So all three of us were illegal, and it had made my life a living hell. I couldn’t go to school, or go outside at all, really. The Counters were always watching and looking for unregistered people. So yeah, that sucked.

“Raiya?”

Mom’s voice startled me. I refused to look at her, even though I could see her on my left side staring at me. “Don’t call me that.”

“Soraiya, are you okay?”

Motivated by sudden anger, I raised my voice. “ 'Okay'?!” I didn’t care that Mom flinched. “Of course I’m not okay. You had both of us illegally, and now we have to pay the price. Why would you do that?!”

Anya cried even louder.

Mom sighed, still trying to make eye contact. “I’m sorry, Soraiya, I was young and dumb, and I had a kid.”

“Young and dumb? You were thirty-one when you had Anya! That’s far past ‘young’,” I spat.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. You were more of a rebellious stunt, but Anya was an accident.”

Ouch. Good thing Anya was crying too loudly to hear that. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. “I was a ‘rebellious stunt’?! That’s so dumb! Why would you have me when you knew I was illegal?!”

“I—”

“Guys!” Anya yelled. “Stop! Please!”

We immediately turned to her. She was sobbing and covering her ears.

Mom hugged her. “I’m sorry, sweety…”

I stopped listening and looked the other way. Mom hadn’t hugged me, but she hugged Anya twice.

Why did the stupid world have to be like this? Maybe, dare I say it, it was better fifty years ago, before World War III, and before stupid Isaac Olten Smithborn made his stupid laws.

What law did he make?

All human lives were automatically terminated at the age of forty.

Just talk.

They won't judge you.

Just talk.

So many kids as lonely as you

would be grateful for your company.

Just talk.

The worst he can do is say no.

Just talk.

Just because they aren't

overly friendly to you

doesn't mean they hate you.

Just talk.

It doesn't matter

what they think of you.

Little Ava squeezed her eyes tight.

not tonight...

not tonight...

She dove under the covers with fright.

Not tonight...

Not tonight...

From her closet came a red light.

Not tonight!

Not tonight!

A hand pulled the door open slight.

Not tonight!

Not tonight!

She took a breath. It'd be all right—

Nothing would happen—not tonight.

Not tonight...

Not tonight...

Please not tonight!

Don't kill me tonight!

But yet the creature devoured her in one bite.

Tonight.

"Daddy, what if it doesn't work?" Charlotte stood in the teleporter as Derek attached the wire to her head.

"I've been a scientist for decades, honey. I know what I'm doing."

She brushed her blond hair out of her face. "Well, I've chewed food every day for six years, but I still bite my tongue sometimes."

That made him freeze. What if something bad did happen? This had never been done before. Never on a living creature.

Nonsense. He had chased his whole life for this. He had built his whole life on this. All the people the told him he was crazy; all the people who said he was too intense; all the people who said he didn't know when to stop: he would prove them wrong. He wasn't going to chicken out now. Charlotte would be perfectly safe. He had tested with other objects before, too. They had all come back in tact.

Derek flicked the power button and smiled. "You'll be just fine. Get ready to go to this spot, thirty years ago!"

The machine shuddered as the engine turned on. Charlotte's frown turned into a grin. "Okay, Daddy. I trust you, and you wouldn't let anything happen to me."

He pushed the button, and she was gone.

Three...two...one...

Derek pushed the second button, the one to pull her back into the present. For some reason, he was nervous. He had done this countless times with inanimate objects, why should this be any different?

And then she appeared in the teleporter.

For a second, he thought everything was okay. Until she collapsed onto the cold floor.

"Charlotte?" He knelt down and detached the wire. "Are you okay?"

Her eyes were blank.

His heartbeat quickened. "Charlotte?" He felt for her pulse, but there was none. Instantly, he started CPR. But it was no use.

After nearly thirty minutes, Derek gave up. He examined her, but nothing seemed to be wrong. She hadn't been harmed in the slightest. And yet, there she was—dead.

And then it occured to him. The electric shock that sent her through the fourth demensioin and into the past must have stopped her heart. Of course it wouldn't appear to harm an object—it wouldn't have a heart to stop.

Derek stood up. He wouldn't quit now. Not after his entire life's research was for this. He had to achieve time travel, no matter what it wook. He would fix the machine. It should be easy. He would dial down the electricity, and then try again with someone else. Perhaps it was good he tried it with his daughter first—her young, fragile heart was more seceptible to the shock, and trying it on his wife might have made the danger go unnoticed. Mistakes made you learn better, after all.

He grinned. Nothing would stop him from achieving his dream.