Wild Travel

Chapter 5

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Chapter Description: Being a big girl again, everything should look great for Kim, but how big is she really and could she ever be big enough to face the woman who is chasing her through time?

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Kim awoke slowly, feeling the tendrils of sleep releasing her step by step. As she opened her eyes, she found herself in her bed, Mr. Fluff by her side.

It hasn’t worked, Kim concluded groggily. Mommy has given me the wrong numbers. It is another day of daycare.

Strangely Kim didn’t mind it as much as she had thought. Instead of worrying she found herself wondering which songs they would sing today and if she and Cathy would have another class of ballet this time. She wanted to learn new steps. It was only when she extended her hands to grab Mr. Fluff and hug him, that she realized something had changed. Her friend was smaller than before and her hands a bit leaner.

Waking up completely, Kim looked at her sheet, seeing Sailor Moon on it in her typical pose. Pulling it back revealed that she no longer had the body of a preschooler. She was taller, a bit more slender, but still seemed to miss something. Touching her chest, Kim found it still flat.

Jumping out of the bed, Kim barely registered the change in her room – posters of Princess Mononoke and Backstreet Boys, some of motor-cycles – walking instead to the mirror next to the bed. It was larger than the one it had replaced which only served to make her feel small. Except she wasn’t as small. Indeed, as she inspected herself, she found she easily had the body of a nine or ten-year-old, covered by a pajama with a wolf on it.

Elementary school, Kim realized. Mommy must have thought this was what I meant by big school. Well, at last it is progress.

She walked back to the bed, taking time to study the details of the room – still a nursery as she had to admit. Less stuff-toys than she had had as a preschooler, but still way more than by the time she went to college. On the shelf next to the desk with the old computer, she saw her yellow bicycle-helmet and suddenly remembered her fitting yellow bike which had already been for a long time too small for her. Sitting down on the bed she found the device dark, as it was probably still recharging. Yet, no reason to not already set the timer back to her present. She touched the first roll and … found she still couldn’t identify the signs.

Sudden panic made her gag and looking at the clock over her door confirmed that she couldn’t read the numbers. Seeking confirmation, she rushed to her desk and reached in the nearest bookshelf. The book she pulled out was The Witch and the Wardrobe as she recognized by the cover. The words on it were undecipherable to her and she opened it, the text greeting her could have been in Chinese.

It will come back soon, Kim tried to calm herself down, rationalising what must have happened. I was able to read the clock after the jump for a while. If the knowledge needed some times to go away, it will need some to come back. All I need is time.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Looking up, the elementary schooler saw her mother standing in the doorway. She still looked large, but far from the giant she had been when Kim had been five.

“Preparing for school?” She asked.

“Yes mommy,” was all Kim could utter.

 

***

 

A few minutes later, the first shock had worn off and Kim had a plan. She would pretend to be sick to stay home until the skills of reading letters and numbers had returned to her. Walking out of her room, still in her pajamas, she first went to her mother’s bedroom, but didn’t find her there. Already wanting to search for her downstairs, Kim heard a sound from the next room. It had been Michael’s nursery when Kim last entered it, only it wasn’t anymore. Her mother had changed it into her hobby-room a few years ago.

As Kim peeked through the open door, she could see her mother standing in front of the photo of her brother and father. She had tears in her eyes and looked frailer and more vulnerable than she should have at this time. Slowly Kim receded into the floor and to her room.

 

***

 

Dressing herself had been no problem, nor brushing her teeth, though Kim half expected her mother to barge in wanting to do it for her. Applying the most casual shirt she could find over her skinny frame, she realized she had been somewhat of a late bloomer. While she was finding some comfort in knowing she at least had one more day without having to deal with a bra, she remembered with a smile how her nearly eleven years old self had longed for one. Back then she had inspected herself every morning in the hope of finding the little bud that would have made her part of the "big girl" club. Not this morning, though. Packing for school was nothing big either, since she had always packed the evening before in advance. Thus, she simply had put the device in a bag hidden in the backpack and hoped her other self had packed accurately this day.

Soon after, Kim and her mother had breakfast at the table downstairs. They had fried eggs, along with toast and Kim just ate one of the latter, heavily loaded with strawberry-jam, as she inspected her mother looks. The woman looked better than she had in Michael’s former room, but her daughter had no way in confirming at which state her health really was at this point. All Kim knew was that she didn’t want to burden her further with lies.

“Is everything all right?” Her mother asked. “You are so silent. You even called me mommy again.”

“Yes,” Kim lied. “It is just … I’m worried there will be a surprise test in math.”

Her mother smiled.

“Don’t worry dear,” she reassured her. “You are fit in it.”

“Thanks,” Kim answered.

I can’t add two and two!, she screamed in her mind, trying to conjure up the numbers, but only suceeded in seeing teddy bears.

Maybe going to school wasn’t the best decision with her condition, but then again if the skills returned by being confronted with them, she couldn’t think of a better place to go. If they returned over time and she had lost them as late as the ballet-event, though, she could think herself glad if she survived this day.

It would pass. Had to. If not and she didn’t find a way back to her time she would burden her mother with a child who had suddenly only the skills of a preschooler. Kim suppressed a shudder and continued eating, but her thoughts still had a life of their own. If it turned out she had messed up this large, she would have robbed her mother also of the money she could have made her life easier with. Maybe this would even make her illness progress faster.

Kim threw a hidden look on her mother, noticing the rings under her eyes and then forced herself to only concentrate on eating.

 

***

 

“Have a nice day Kim,” her mother said, as Kim stepped out of the car. “And don’t worry. You are a bright girl.”

Right now, I’m a bright preschooler visiting elementary school, Kim thought as she waved after her mother as she drove away. Low chance of it being finger-painting day…

Trying to gather happier thoughts, Kim turned to the school. Its high front was looming over her. As she climbed the steps, the weight of her backpack felt absurdly heavy on her shoulders. Her first step was to find her fellow classmates and hook on to them to find the right classroom. No easy task, as hordes of children, some younger, some older, surrounded her as soon as she entered.

Finding herself a protected spot to wait near the stairs for a familiar face, Kim mused over the different feel the ages had had so far. Being twenty-one had meant living with a natural security she could only appreciate from this new perspective. She had been an adult, in the end only responsible for herself, and no one could have taken this from her if not herself. The time of her prom had been exciting, too, as she had for the first time tasted this control of her life, even when legally not a full adult yet and still unsure where to go. With fifteen she had at last felt in control of her own body, something which had been missing with thirteen, when she seemingly consisted entirely of awkwardness. As a preschooler she had just been so full of energy, waiting to erupt in a way she had never felt before. She had been able to do little, but did so with her whole being. Now, with ten as she guessed, she felt more in control of her life, as children did when they were over the first years of real school and believed themselves to easily sail through the world with the boat that was their life. This was before puberty settled in, revealing their ocean had been a pond and their boat was changing into something new, just as the waves on the real ocean became sky-high.

“Morning Kim!”

Kim looked in the direction of the young voice. A blonde boy stood next to her. His prepubescent features and high-pitched voice were remotely familiar, but she wouldn’t have known who he was had she not seen and heard his thirteen-year-old self a relative short time before.

“Hello James,” Kim said, relieved to see him.

“Lost in thoughts?”

“I just have not slept right.” Kim explained truthfully. “I don’t think I will get one answer right today, if I’m called.”

“Do it like me,” Mike replied. “Sleep with open eyes and when the teacher calls you say: Everything you said last time.”

Kim found herself smiling. No matter what would happen, at last she had one friend here.

Together they went to their class. Kim let Mike subtly lead until she was sure she had remembered the position of their class room correctly. Once there she had a little problem remembering where her chair was and had hardly sat down when the bell rang. A minute later, Mrs. Buye entered the room – her former geography-teacher as Kim remembered.

This was good news, since she was one of the blessed teachers who hardly tortured their class with questions. As Kim went through her backpack, she managed to take out the material she guessed she needed, simply by the cover of the geography-book and the matching color of her exercise book.

The topic of the hour were the nations of Africa. Mrs. Buye let the students who raised their hands present their homework about single countries. Kim refrained from doing so, as she believed she had done the work, but still couldn’t decipher the text or even make sense of the two diagrams she had added. Listening to her fellow students was okay though, nearly like storytime in daycare, except not as funny.

Maybe there isn’t so much difference after all, Kim thought.

After all the willing students had presented their work, Mrs. Buye presented a little projector work of her own they had to make notes for. Kim went in with all her might, but as hard as she tried she found herself not being able to produce signs she could assign meaning to and thus just scrawled, so it wasn’t obvious she didn’t do any work. Her past self could always ask for notes from James.

After this Mrs. Buye gave them a free presentation of Central Africa, they didn’t need to make notes for. Kim still tried and finding her letters were still alien to her, she began drawing a map as it was projected on the chalk board and then to copy the signs assigned to them, knowing it to be names, even if she couldn’t read them.

“And what are you scribbling there?” Mrs. Buye asked when she noticed.

“A little reminder.” Kim said and presented her work to the teacher.

It was a crude map, as her drawing skills did seem to be stuck on daycare-level, too, but either her teacher didn’t notice over the distance or she approved the effort.

“Nice idea,” Mrs. Buye admitted. “But better focus your concentration on my words.”

Kim nodded.

 

***

 

“Boy I hope this will be the topic of the test.” James noticed.

“Must be,” Michelle replied. “She said Africa would be the topic of this year.”

“Africa has many parts,” Kim said, happy to be able to take part in the conversation. “We …”

The door to their classroom opened and their next teacher entered. It was as if a cold breeze went through the lines. Discussions stopped and everyone took place in their chair.

Not him, Kim thought.

Him was Mr. Fillier, their math-teacher and easily the worst one in the school. He was everything Mrs. Buye was not. Insisting on homework, notes and being strict when it came to errors. His brown hair was receding, revealing a slight baldness and the eyes studying them through thick glasses were merciless. Kim hurried to put the math-material out of her backpack. She couldn’t allow herself to give him a reason to pick her.

The hour started as always head-on. No welcoming and no explanation. He didn’t even start with homework, but with his newest topic, just so his students couldn’t prepare beforehand. After he gave them the page in the book they had to open – Kim found the right one by looking at her neighbor’s desk – he began addressing irregular numbers and their combination with graphs and shapes.

Kim tried to follow, torturing her brain in the process, but after ten minutes of talking about symbols which were without meaning to her, using words she couldn’t identify either, she pretty much gave up. Looking at her fellow students, she realized she wasn’t the only one. She doubted that she would have been able to follow even if she had been in possession of her elementary school skills. This was algebra, several years before she learned to master it and even more so before discovering she would need it in her adult life, when on her path to becoming a programmer. Her clueless ten years old self likely wouldn't have bothered either, she chuckled.

Kim looked out of the window to her left, only to have her eyes tarring at a playground. A group of preschoolers was playing there. The lone adult sitting on a bench made her guess it was a daycare-group having a field-trip. The children played wild, hunting each other and making good use of the play-equipment, following the natural impulses of their bodies and being rewarded with excitement. A stark contrast to her and her classmates.

It could be me, Kim thought. Forever and ever. Once a day or year every time again. Without worries about tomorrow or how long mother will live.

Kim forced her gaze away from the window and back to the class, only to notice that Mr. Fillier was looking at her. It couldn’t have been long, for none of the other children had noticed, but he had paused a moment before resuming his speech. Kim continued pretending to make notes, but she knew she was in trouble.

The retribution came a few minutes later, when Mr. Fillier had just ended his speech.

“Time for homework,” he said, turning straight to Kim. “Mrs. Parris?”

Kim froze. She looked on the notes in her notebook which she hoped was the homework, but she still couldn’t make any sense out of it. Her eyes flinched to her backpack and the device hidden in there. The temptation to grab it and return to this morning before anyone could stop her was almost too much, but why end there? Why not randomly turn the rolls until she found the right one to return to daycare with Mrs. Robinson who was a better teacher than this one could ever hope for?

Because you owe it to mother, Kim thought. Owe it to her to be mature for once.

She stood up, grabbed her notes and went to the front of her class. There she turned to face her classmates as Mr. Fillier expected them to, as if to make it the most palpable for them. The other children looked at her mostly with sympathy, as their teacher had made everyone stand there already. Kim had a sense of dèjà vu of a similar situation in college, years in the future and months in the past. Again, she went over her homework and again she couldn’t make sense of it. Briefly she closed her eyes.

I think I can, she believed to hear Cathy’s voice. I think I can.

Magic was real this year, she decided. As Kim opened her eyes again, she found she could read the letters and numbers. More than that, they made sense as if she had written them yesterday.

“The hypothenuse is the basis for the advanced setting of the diagram.” She answered the first question of the homework. “Based on this the equation is …”

It was all correct, as Mr. Filliers confirmed not by praise but silence. A look at his stony face revealed to her how very much he had wished for her to fail in her answer.

“Who is making the next one?” He asked, letting her go.

Stupid, soon to be bald torturer, Kim thought as she practically floated back to her chair. Soon I will be back to being a millionaire while you will stay a teacher to children you hate.

Feeling the security of adulthood returning to her, Kim nonetheless kept paying attention to the rest of the class and made diligent notes. Partly because she didn’t want to give him another reason to single her out and she felt she owed it to her past self, but mostly because she could. Reading, writing and handling numbers suddenly have a whole new appeal once you experience the fear of losing it forever.

At some point, she briefly let her eyes wander back to the playground outside. The children were still playing there, but to Kim it had lost most of its appeal. She would go back to her time and be there for her mother as she owed it to her.

 

***

 

A bit later Kim sat in the canteen, on one of the more distant tables, eating the bread her mother had made her. She would go to the toilet and use the device there soon, but felt she needed time to calm down. Looking over the children and teenagers going through their lives around her made her feel a sense of accomplishment.

I did it, she thought, after all these years I’m finally able to face my future.

Kim had eaten the last bite of her bread, when someone sat down at her table. Fearing it was one of her friends and already thinking of an excuse for eating without them, she looked up. It was a strange girl. Older, maybe from college, with blond hair she wore in a high pony-tail and clothes which looked strangely new and earnest. The eyes … Kim stiffened as she recognized her.

“You,” she said to the woman in the business suit.

“Me,” the woman, now a girl, admitted.

Kim panicked and tried to guess how quickly she could run to the toilets or even just pull the device out of her backpack.

“No need to run.” The girl said, seemingly reading her eyes. “I just want to talk.”

“About what?” Kim asked, though she already knew.

“About an unexpected lotto-win,” the other time traveler replied. “A perfect prom which hasn’t happened this way the first time around. A girl shutting up a bully and spending time at a party in a summer-camp. Oh, and a ballet performance. Might I say you looked very cute?

“It wasn’t planned this way,” Kim said, feeling her cheeks turning red. “At first I just wanted to help my mother. Then things got out of hands.”

“Timelines always do that. They are nothing to be played with,” the girl insisted.

Kim looked at her, thinking about the million questions she had. Who was this woman in a girl’s body? For whom if any did she work? Where did she come from and when? But there was one question which mattered most.

“Will you undo it?” Kim asked. “I don’t care about the other stuff, but my mother deserves the lotto-win. She had sold the house so I could go to college.”

“I will change nothing of it,” the woman said. “If only because it would cause us too much of a headache. You made a tear in the timelines. No sense in ripping them even more. Just give me the device back.”

Feeling a wave of relief sweeping across her brain, Kim moved her hands to her backpack almost instinctively, before stopping herself. “Now?”

The girl sighed as if she had to explain something to a very thick-headed customer.

“In your own time. Place it in the toilet where you stole it from me and I will take it.” She instructed her. “No reason to make more messes.”

Kim nodded, yet something made her hesitate. It was an idea. One she had felt growing, deep in the buried parts of her mind, ever since discovering the power of that little device back on that day. She hadn’t dared to think it because it seemed too strange, too risky, but it had been gnawing at her mind. Now that she had someone to talk with, the idea suddenly burned relentlessly in her mind, needing to be voiced out loud.

“How far back could someone go?”

“Hm?” The older girl looked confused for a moment, clearly thinking about her own way out already.

“How far could someone go back to her old self. How young?” Kim continued. “If someone is under one …”

“NO!” The girl practically shouted, her hand banging on the table.

Some students looked at her, maybe really noticing her for the first time, but she only starred at Kim.

“I know your file.” She revealed. “I know of the accident in which your mother was hurt.”

“And in which my father and brother died.” Kim added.

“Tragic,” the girl replied, although her tone had little compassion. “I admit. But history.”

“Michael was barely as old as I’m right now,” Kim noticed.

“All you could achieve is getting yourself killed, too.” The other replied in a cool voice.

“I owe them.” Kim shook her head. “At least one try.”

“Listen you little …” The teenager stood up, making Kim suddenly feel very small.

“What is going on here?” A voice demanded to know.

Behind the other girl’s shoulder, Kim could see Mr. Hancock, the school’s vice principal.

“Might I ask who you are and what you are doing on school-property?” He asked the older girl.

“I was searching for a friend of mine, having a practicum here.” The other girl lied without flinching while turning around. “I know Kim from the park and was asking her if she was going to help me.”

Mr. Hancock turned to Kim.

“I … I don’t know her.” Kim lied.

The other girl turned to her. “You …”

“I'm sure we will be able to clear this in the principal’s office.” Mr. Hancock cut her off. “Would you come with me?”

It wasn’t a question, so the time traveler followed with grinding teeth, but not before glaring one last time at Kim.

Kim lost no time. She grabbed her backpack and left the canteen before the vice-principal or anyone else could hold her for more questions. Quickly she hushed up the stairs until she reached the upper toilets. Only there did she allow herself to catch breath.

It was empty, so she packed out the device. There were two ways she could turn the rolls. Forward or back, nearly the same time. Forward meant security and adulthood, backwards meant a risk and becoming young enough that she no longer even had faint memories of it. Kim looked up in the mirror. The little girl she saw looked frightened and frail. Had this been anyone else she would have advised her to go back to her own time, but it was her.

Before she could reconsider, Kim rolled the switches of the device to the day of the accident. She had no problem finding the date. Her mother always went to the cemetery on the same day each year and the rest was counting back her birthdays. Seeing the date set, Kim took a deep breath.

For you Mom, she thought. And you Dad and Michael.

She pressed the button.

 

To be continued …

 

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