“Er … or you will … like, forever.” I have just dropped some real mind-bending news on her, and there’s no way but forward now. “You will teach this book only to seniors, and you will tell us it’s your idea of a treat, some light reading because you know we are already checked out, and you remember that feeling yourself.”

The surprise on her face would be priceless if it wasn’t mixed with a little fear, too. I’m nervous about where this might go.

Ms. Silverthorn looks me right in the eye. “I assume this means you’re from the future.”

I could kiss her. “Yes! YES!” I did say she was the original early adopter, right? She didn’t even wait for me to announce it. “Wait—you believe me?”

Her laugh is warm and a little shaky. “I want to, for sure.” She gestures at my clothes. “You know my name and where I live, but we’ve never met, and, trust me, I know every brown person in Antic Springs. You’ve somehow memorized my lesson planner, despite me not yet having filled it in. And there’s that bizarre outfit—a classic man-out-of-time trope. So, yes, I want to believe you because otherwise, you’re a stalker who knows way too much about my business.”

I start to speak, but she presses ahead. “I teach the Twain because I love time travel. If it’s in a book, I’ve read it. Movies, too.” I want to tell her that I know this, and it’s one reason I love her, but I don’t want to interrupt. “I even had The Two Worlds of Jenny Logan on VHS until I accidentally taped over it during the Sarajevo games.” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I don’t ask because she’s on a roll. “I’ve always believed it was just a matter of time before scientists proved time travel possible. I even wrote a paper on how Einstein’s quantum physics might allow for parallel time.”

“I thought you hated physics class!” She’d confessed her one high school C grade to me after I nearly failed my physics final.

This insider’s access to her mind slows her up for a moment, and she shakes her shiny curls. “That’s why my final project was on time travel—it was as close as I could get to making it fun.” A wry laugh. “I can’t believe I complain about that class to my students! Why am I revealing so much?”

She falls quiet. “I suppose that hardly matters. I should be more concerned that I’m buying this so quickly. As much as I want it to be real, now that it’s here—now that you’re here …” She falls silent a moment, mulling.