I think about Cheng enduring all my whims and how mad I got because he didn’t just indulge me one time. I’d blamed him for being a bad boyfriend when I was the one acting like a brat. I think about his arms and how safe it would feel to be in them.

I think about Nix listening to me talk about how I rule the school, and how I must have sounded, making prom all about me. Nix was right, of course, about all of it, and if I ever find a way back home, I’m going to tell them that I finally appreciate this.

But I do not, not for two seconds, think about jumping. I want to live, to make guys who think they can treat people this way pay for it. I want my living to cost them.

I’ve had the chance to know what it’s like to really be me, to feel loved for who I am, to walk through the world believing there is not just one place for me, but many places. Yet I realize now that I didn’t understand what it was like to constantly look over your shoulder, fear what your gayness means all the time, and walk down the halls of your school thinking that it could be years before you get to be who you want. How could I be so stupid to think confidence was all it took to make a person safe?

As I look down into the dark, I think about how this night played out for Mom in the life where I never time traveled. How she has lived with the idea of beautiful, funny, talented Chaz crumpled in the bottom of this quarry. No wonder she could never truly shake it off. I wish I’d tried a little harder to see her fear as love.

But now I’m alone, and it feels like it’s been hours. What happens if the guys catch up to Chaz? Or if I fall asleep despite my best efforts and tumble into the dark? What if the fate I’ve spared Chaz ends up my own?

Hate Did That for Itself

Hate Did That for Itself

Flickers of light sweep across the trees on the opposite wall of the quarry. It takes me a second to realize they must be coming from the forest above me. I don’t care who it is.

“Help! Help me!”

“Luis?”

It’s Mom. I can’t see her; I hear only the voice that sang me to sleep, the one that nags me to empty the dishwasher, the one who told me I could live without a prom.

“I’m down here!”

When two flashlights shine down at me, I can’t see who else is there, but it doesn’t matter: I know they’re here to save me.