Desmond watched her go to the coffee pot and pour a cup. He continued his story a little distractedly at first, but when he remembered I was there, he found a new purpose. “Well, first, I had to fix the dent in the garage. Then I had to strip and repaint the garage door.”

“Well, we don’t have a garage, so I guess that punishment won’t work for Leath,” Mom said, scratching her head as considering some other chore.

“Oh, I’m not finished,” Desmond said. “I also had to wash my uncle’s truck every Saturday for a year. Oh yeah, and vacuum it, too.”

He gave me a wink that told me he’d added the last part about vacuuming the truck. But since there was no talk of grounding me, I knew I was getting off light. Although honestly, a simple grounding wouldn’t be enough to keep me in Woodvine.

“I think that sounds reasonable,” she said, giving me a smile. She moved toward me, then caressed my cheek. “If she also agrees to cook breakfast.”

“Done,” I said, surprised by my sudden hunger. Maybe I’d eaten dinner last night in Woodvine, but I hadn’t eaten a full meal for days during my time in Judaculla. After putting the largest skillet we had on the back burner, I added a dollop of butter.

“And then you need to get back to your studies,” Mom said.

“That’s right,” Desmond said, joining her at the table. “Your first exam’s tomorrow. Think you’re ready?”

“Yes,” I said, adding another lie to the pile as I whisked eggs, cheese, and milk together for scrambled eggs.

Although I’d often been nervous about exams, it was freeing knowing it didn’t matter how well I did in this reality. At the same time, I was curious. What exam? What grade was I even in now?

Not surprisingly, my punishment spilled over to cleanup duty in addition to cooking duty for not only breakfast, but also lunch as well. During the time in between, I was banished to my room. After a short exploration of my bedroom, I found a literature book under my bed. I was still in the eleventh grade, and apparently in the midst of prepping for my AP English exam. I flipped through the pages, astounded that I had complete knowledge of every short story in the book, even though I had no memory of reading them.

Finally, a perk to this whole reality-shifting thing. This version of me came automatically equipped to handle the life I’d been handed. Even though I skipped over actually living my backstory, everything was conveniently intact. At least so far as knowledge-based things were concerned, such as the stories in the textbook.