I stood in my room and pondered my situation for a moment. I caught a glimpse of the calendar I used to keep by my bed: it said September 2003. I was reliving my 13th birthday, in seventh grade!
I looked at the clothes in my dresser. These weren’t clothes I would have worn as a kid; these were tight clothes that showed off every bulge, brand name clothes like Abercrombie and Fitch or Aeropostale.
I went down to the kitchen, where my mom was making breakfast while also grabbing her stuff for work. “Happy birthday, sweetie!” she said with a forehead kiss.
“Mom!” I groaned, in a voice not much higher than my adult one.
“Also, Adam, I know you like going shirtless, but that’s not an option at school. It’s Friday, go grab your jersey!” she said on her way out the door.
Jersey? I ran upstairs and saw a medium-blue football jersey with yellow numbers on it in my room. I played football?
There was so much more to take in, but I had to catch the bus. I put on my clothes, grabbed a bite of breakfast, and went out to the bus with David.
I sat alone in the seat I remembered, but soon heard a voice saying, “Dude, come back here! Remember us?”
I turned and saw Parker Collins, the star of the football team. Except I guess that was me now. Where I came from, Parker had been a football prodigy in high school and college, and eventually transitioned to acting in movies.
I reluctantly went back and sat with him, but he didn’t notice my anxiety. He talked the whole way to school, but I barely heard. What else was different about my life this time around?