Most Obnoxious Boy Alive: Ur giving me pet names already? Aww, honey oats, that’s sweet. Not sure I’m ready 4 this level of commitment tho

Me: You started it!

Most Obnoxious Boy Alive: Ur rite. I did. Ok fine. 2 eggs over easy. Bacon. Toast. What I’m having 4 breakfast

Me: Told you already. Utterly uninterested.

Most Obnoxious Boy Alive: Chrysanthemum tea too. Cuz it reminds me of my khun yai. She used to make it 4 me every morning w loads of brown sugar

My fingers hover over my cell phone. I can’t bring myself to shut him down. Not now. Because I know from Lalana that “khun yai” means “grandmother.” And…he spoke about her in the past tense.

I remember, too, that Lalana attended a funeral last year. And I’m pretty sure it was for Bandit’s grandmother.

Me: Of course you would like your tea super sweet.

Most Obnoxious Boy Alive: I don’t. But that’s how my khun yai liked it, so that’s how I drank it

Me: And that’s how you still make your tea?

Dots appear. And then disappear. And then appear again, as though he can’t decide how to respond. I meant the question as a throwaway, but now I’m gripping my phone like our very future depends on the answer. Finally, his response pops up.

Most Obnoxious Boy Alive: yea. that’s how I still make my tea

…

Ninety minutes later, I stifle a yawn as I pull our beat-up Honda Accord into a parking space in front of our school. It’s early still, a half hour before first bell—but the real problem is that my eyes didn’t close for more than a few seconds last night.

I’d just learned that the Voice in my head is my older self. Who traveled ten years into the past. Because she wants me to stop the person who will destroy the world.

That’s enough to give anyone insomnia, right?

Turning off the ignition, I glance at my brother in the passenger seat. He’s staring out the window, probably still half asleep, unaware of my emotional turmoil.

I’d give up my brand new Canon Rebel if he would give me some much-needed words of reassurance. That I’m up to this task. That I didn’t imagine the Voice. That I haven’t completely lost my mind.

Of course, Archie can’t comfort me if I don’t confide in him. And I’m not going to do that. Not yet. Not when the Voice was so adamant about keeping the knowledge to myself.

“Archie,” I say when he doesn’t budge. “We’re here.”

He sighs and grabs his backpack from the floor. As smart as he is, my brother never wants to come to school. He’d much rather be down in the basement, his mind busy operating on another plane.