Within minutes, we reach the basketball court, where Bandit’s feet are still tied to the pole. Where Archie lies, panting. Blood blossoms on his thigh and pools on the blacktop, soaking through his pants and connecting purple stripe to purple stripe.

Five second later, the people descend on him like a swarm of honeybees. Annaliese curls up beside him and holds his hand, while Chelsea dabs at his face with her handkerchief. Zeke takes off his tuxedo shirt, ripping the fabric into strips, while Reggie, the heartthrob of the senior class and Lalana’s former crush, fashions a tourniquet for Archie’s leg.

At first, my brother doesn’t seem to notice the attention. He hisses through his teeth, his face contorted with pain. But the shouts get louder. And the encouragement comes faster.

“Oh, Archie! You poor thing!”

“Breathe, buddy. Ambulance is coming.”

“How can I help? Anything at all. Just say the word.”

“We’ve got you, Archie. Just hold on.”

My brother jerks up his head. He looks around, wonder in his eyes, at the ten, twenty, fifty people surrounding him. He shakes his head, as though their kindness is another trick. But there’s no ulterior motive to their words. No hidden agenda behind their support.

The blood still flows from his leg. Pain still pinches his eyes. But there, at the corner of his mouth, I see something else. A smile, or at least the seed of one. With the right friends, with the appropriate care, it might grow and flourish into a real grin. A permanent one.

That’s my hope, anyway.

I fade into the crowd, which surges forward to fill the spot I’ve vacated. Kneeling by Bandit’s feet, I begin to untangle the knots I so recently tied.

My brother doesn’t blink at my disappearance, and that’s good.

That’s right.

The solution was never about me. It was never up to me to save him or sacrifice him, no matter what my older self believed. Archie becomes who he does because of a long line of hurts, a long string of abandonments that started with our mother. We’ll never be able to change the future because we eliminate any one event. Someone like Charlie will always find him and prey on his need to feel wanted. Accepted. All we can do is try to fill that void.

And hope that we succeed.

Bandit catches my chin in his hand. My skin is sweaty, his fingers grimy, but none of that matters when our eyes meet.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks.

I sip in air and release it. Suck in more and push it out again.

“Once upon a time stream, Archie Sherman invents a virus that will wipe out two-thirds of humanity,” I say musingly. “There’s only one thing that can stop him, one action that might wrench our world onto a brand-new thread.”

“What’s that? Shooting him in the leg?”