Leo shook his head. “‘African American,’” he said. “Here, it’s just black, or negro, or s’equal, or worse.”

I wanted to tell him I was sorry about that. About everything—all the shitty cards he got dealt, and the fact that his entire deck was now stacked with shitty cards. But the other Leo would remind me that the cards in my world weren’t all that much better. That segregation and stolen opportunities still happened in sneaky, and not-so-sneaky, ways.

“This is all crazy, you know that, right?” Leo said.

I shrugged. “But you’re still listening.”

“Maybe because I’m just as crazy as you.”

Then he bit his lip. “And in this place you say you come from . . . What happened to my sister?”

I chose my words carefully. Spoke slowly. “She’s still here, Leo,” I told him. “She had meningitis but survived it. Better doctors, I guess. She’s a junior at Tibbetsville High—made varsity volleyball.”

His tears flowed freely now; he didn’t even try to hide them, but through them he still let out a rueful laugh. “T-ville High? Now I know you’re making shit up.”

“It’s integrated, Leo. All schools are. Or at least they’re supposed to be.”

He took a moment, then dismissed it as too much to swallow. “Right, and we got a black president, and everyone’s got their own pet dragons.”

“We did have a Black president,” I told him. “For eight years. No dragons, though.”

Leo let it all brew for a bit, and then he surprised me. “You know what?” he said. “As crazy as you sound, it’s just late enough, and I’m just tired enough, that I believe you.”

But I knew it was a little more than that. I knew from how Katie and Hunter had reacted around me. There was still the memory of memories there. I thought about an old cassette tape my dad played for me. A “mix tape” from the ’80s, long before playlists were a thing. In between songs you could hear the hint of older music—music that had been recorded over. I had turned up the volume all the way to see if I could recognize the song underneath, but never could.

“So if everything you’re saying is true,” Leo asked, “what are we supposed to do about it?”

“I don’t know, Leo. I just don’t know.”

“Then why the hell did you come here?” he said, getting angry. “Why the hell are you giving me useless stories about a world I can’t be a part of?”

“Because maybe you could help me make it real again.”

And that hung heavy in the air between us for a long time.