How Genius Girl Saved My @$$ (2 page)

At this point, my present-time self is stirring. He rolls over, and resting on one elbow, rubs his eyes. And sees me. And keeps staring at me. Hey, it’s still kind of a shock for me. I can only imagine what it’s like to come out of a sound sleep and see yourself standing there looking back at you.

I tell them Tracy Chyvers helped me travel two days back in time to undo something terrible. They totally believe me because everybody on campus knows Genius Girl can do damn near anything when it comes to science and astrophysics.

Then I tell my present-time self how Lana dumped us on national TV, and he’s like, “Oh, my God!” And how everybody on campus was laughing at us, especially her remark about the sex not being very good, and he’s like, “That bitch!” I didn’t tell him how I made a complete ass out of both of us by shouting “I love you!” twice.

Instead, I tell my present-time self, “Don’t worry, I’m going to undo all this, but right now I need some sleep. Move over.”

“Whoa!” he goes. “You’re not sleeping with me!”

Toby’s smiling now. He’s got a story he can tell his grandchildren, and it’s getting better by the second.

I’m growing a little annoyed with myself—my present-time self—and e! selfI say, “You know the chemistry exam you’re going to be taking this afternoon? Well, you flunk it, ass-wipe, because you partied instead of studying. I can pass that exam for you
and
screw up Lana’s plan to humiliate you.”

So he lets me sleep with him, but he makes me brush my teeth first because I smell like puke. Then he complains I’m using
his
toothbrush. I mean, Jesus Christ!

*

In the morning, Toby and the other Ryan go off to their classes and I study for the chemistry exam. That afternoon, I go in and take the exam and ace it. Okay, maybe not ace it exactly, but I pass the damn thing, all right?

Toby, who passes the exam again, shakes my hand after class and wishes me luck on the whole Lana thing, and I go off to see her.

There she is, sitting on the bench waiting. This time I’m not so much thinking how hot she looks as I am calling her a cheap, conniving bitch and worse under my breath.

I sit beside her and just give her a little peck on the cheek.

She starts right in. “Ryan, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Before you say anything,” I tell her loudly, “I have to get this off my chest.”

Now she’s all confused. “Wait! What?”

“I’m breaking up with you,” I say even louder.

“What do you mean? I…”

But I don’t give her a chance to finish. “You’re shallow and selfish, Lana. And not very good in bed.”

Some of the students passing by have stopped to listen. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Toby peeking out from behind a tree. Hunched next to him, I realize, is my present-time self, wearing this ridiculous mustache and sombrero as a disguise.
What a dick.

Lana, meanwhile, is reeling from my insults. “Hold it, mister! I’m plenty good in bed!”

“I’m afraid not, Lana. You just lie there like a sack of dog food. I have to do all the work.”

“You bastard!”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, so I won’t say anything about your breath and bad hygiene.”

I can see she’s steaming up pretty good, so I get up off the bench, ready to make a strategic retreat.

She jumps up as well—and shouting, “You son of a bitch!”—takes a swing at me.

I duck deftly, and when she does a 360 with her haymaker, I catch her in my arms. “Let’s just say goodbye,ther

“And cut!” shouts Flip Flanders, coming out from the bushes. “That’s perfect!”

As the cameraman and sound man appear behind him, I flash this surprised look that I practiced all morning in the mirror. “Whoa! Who are these people?” I ask, convincingly.

Lana, back on her feet, brushes herself off and shoots a pair of dagger eyes at me. “You jerk! I was going to be on national television.”

“You still are, Lana!” says Flip Flanders.

“But I was supposed to break up with
him
,” she whines.

I’m killing myself to keep a straight face.

“This will be even better,” says old Flip. “You taking a swing at him was a classic.”

I’m hoping the cameraman is zooming in on her angry, scrunched-up face.

“And, Ryan,” says Flip, “the whole ‘lying in bed like a sack of dog food,’ unbelievable. I can’t wait till we get it on the air.”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t looking to embarrass anyone. You should have told me you brought a video crew with you, Lana.”

“I
hate
you!” she screams.

And I allow myself a small grin.

*

Lana left school the next day to launch her modeling career. Maybe she learned a valuable lesson about treating people with respect. Then again, maybe not. Who gives a shit, really?

When the two days were up, present-time Ryan and myself merged effortlessly into one. And I threw away that ridiculous mustache and sombrero.

Tracy Chyvers used me as her big success story when she began marketing her time-travel invention to some giant corporations. So I’ve become semi-famous and have already parlayed that into at least a dozen good dates. Hey, I’m practically an astronaut, for crying out loud.

When I asked Genius Girl why she chose me to be the first person to travel through time, she replied, “Because you had nothing going for you. If you got lost in time or just crashed and died, the world would have gotten along without you just fine.”

Talk about brutally honest.

End