2000, Eighteen Years Backwards

When Anaya's eyes finally snapped opened, she immediately forced them shut again, as if her eyelids alone could shield her from what she might have just done.

The attempt was futile. She'd time traveled not just once, but twice in the same day already. That took away the luxury of pretending it was a dream.

I'm seventeen. I didn't die. I've got another shot at life. Anaya repeated this over and over.

Gradually, she mustered enough courage to squint through her eyelashes. The white ceiling felt like it bore down on her and the teal walls boxed her in. As her panic and disorientation ebbed away, the room seemed to elongate and rise. This was her old bedroom in her parents' house, she realized.

Then, she cringed. My vibrant phase. The Armageddon of sorts expected at the dawn of year 2000, aka Y2K, had been all the craze back then. In preparation, Anaya and her friends had made their rooms into mini time capsules of everything they loved. You know, in case they were trapped in there for all eternity. Or something like that. One wall was plastered with posters of every movie she'd ever loved, ranging from 'Top Gun' to 'Legends of The Fall', and the other dedicated to artists that had sung her through every smile and tear. Toni Braxton, Jewel, Nickelback, Tupac, all peered down at her from their carefully decided places.

Her decor, her clothes, her style at this age were all so... Beverly Hills 90210, college version.

What the hell am I thinking?! I just travelled back in time! Lightening fast, she snatched up a pillow and pressed it into her face with all the strength she had to conceal her scream. Albeit muffled, it was a shrill, chandelier-crackling, throat-hoarsing cry of desperation.

Then she started hyperventilating. Not good, not good!

Anaya knew what would come next if she didn't find a way to calm down. More than half of the people who had bipolar disorder experienced one or more anxiety disorders as well. A hypomanic episode would follow, bringing recklessness, aggressiveness, and sometimes, hypersexuality along with it for the ride.  

Focus on something else, something small!

With herculean effort, Anaya removed the pillow from her face. Rays of sunshine seeped through her lace curtains. She checked the table on her right, where her digital alarm clock would be. On cue, it sounded out 07:00.

My parents! She could barely come to terms with the fact that she was actually here herself, let alone begin to understand what anyone else knew or remembered. Throwing the duvet over her head, she burrowed farther into it.

But she could hear no noises. No movement. Nothing happened.

Then it came to her. Eighteen years ago, now, both her parents worked. An accountant and an entrepreneur. At this time of the morning, they'd have hit the gym together before burying themselves in work.

Come on, Ana. Get your shit together. She hurled away the covers and pushed herself off the bed. If you're going to act like a frightened rabbit, you might as well have hung around for that van and ended it all.

The thought successfully sobered Anaya enough to consider her situation objectively. That's when it really dawned on her. She'd escaped death and travelled back in time!

What do I have to be upset about? I have a life to live! I should be skipping over this whole 'how will I survive this' drama and even add a flourishing pirouette like a prima ballerina. I get to redo it all.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to reconstruct her life in her head.

A second look at the red digits on the black clock established it was a Monday. She would need to be at school by 08:30. Striding to her closet, she found that a slim, black jumpsuit and a gold cropped jacket had been arranged. What the hell was I thinking? She bent down in search of a silk shirt, skinny pants or a pencil skirt. A few seconds later, she straightened right back up. Wouldn't that be a sure-fire way to blend into high school! Picking up the snazzy ensemble, she tried to take comfort in the fact that scrupulously coordinating her outfits had been a nightly teenage ritual, so she must have chosen it for a good reason. Or so she sincerely hoped...

While she dressed, she did her best not to dwell on her newly renewed, toned muscles, the supple, taut feel of her skin, and the miracle of her boobs staying so high up without needing significant assistance. Or that her hair was now partially blonde. Peer pressure. She'd change that back to black. Focusing, she commanded herself to remember the details of her final year of high school. By the time her third coat of mascara was dry enough to fully open her dark umber eyes, she was out of time for breakfast, but ready to make the rest of her life matter.

***

A major buzz was hanging around all the different cliques she walked by on her way to class that morning. She stopped right there to soak in the effect. I am walking to class, in high school!

It was exactly as Anaya remembered it, if not a little less daunting. The pristine sight of freshly cut green grass, the ghastly sounds of teenagers striving to be cool, the fat-fueled smells of burgers and fries... nostalgia overwhelmed her and she leaned against a wall for support.

That was when she noticed the stoners, smartasses, hipsters, and geeks all huddling over colorful flyers of various types and sizes, in their respective spots on the lawn surrounding the fountain. Even the badasses and the bros could be seen flinging piles of flyers at each other, littering the wooden tables and benches they'd claimed for their own. What's going on today?

Remembering that she had to act normal, or seventeen at least, she swaggered on. She got her answer when she walked through the doors. Multi-colored pieces of art paper were arranged in the center of the board, exclaiming "COLLEGE FAIR TODAY!"

"You showed! We'd only tried to talk you into joining us for the fair about a million times. But... why are you in your outfit for the photoshoot if you're here instead?"

Startled, Anaya spun around. It was Kaitlin... her best friend. To say it was like seeing a ghost, didn't quite capture it well enough. Short, with long bleached hair, muscular but with soft blue eyes, Kait reached up to give Anaya a tight hug. At that, she felt her heart swell so much that she feared her ribs couldn't contain how much she'd missed her. 

Keep it snappy and cool as a seventeen-year-old would, she willed herself. She needed to check her calendar and felt around for her phone, then realized she didn't have one at seventeen. "Are you gonna make me google it?" As the words spilled out of her mouth Anaya realized her mistake.

"Google? Don't you mean goggle? Goggle at what?" Kait's eyes narrowed as she assessed Anaya once more.

Anaya made a mental note to keep her mouth shut until she could check herself. And get a watch, since she'd given Greg his to turn back time... THINK! "Where are you going now? Maybe I'll come along."

"It's kind of mandatory, Ana. You said you were going to fake period pains and ditch today, but since you're here..." Tay, birth name Taylor, called from a few feet behind Kait, letting her words trail behind her. "C'mon," she said, her hips swaying sinuously towards the auditorium.

Anaya's legs started behind them, but her mind was still drinking it all in. She couldn't help but marvel at the way the overhead fluorescent lights cast a glow on Tay's deep brown skin, with its warm orange-red undertones. Her trio. Kait was the head of their clan which they had dubbed freshman year as the 'models.' The name had stuck from all the admiration they received from the general student population for being pretty and stylish, but they thought of themselves as 'role models' instead. Kait was as apt a leader as could be found for that.

With no further time to relish the fact that she was reunited with them, Anaya stepped into the hall. Booths and stalls had sprung up everywhere during the weekend, with banners and leaflets galore. She followed the girls through the displays of colleges in the Art, Fashion, and Design section. No wonder I skipped this the last time around. Greg had brought her back to the day she'd dropped out, after all.

Overwhelmed, she sat on a metal chair on the sidelines of the auditorium, twirling a wisp of hair, when a sleek pair of mauve stilettos paused in front of her.

"I love your shoes," Anaya admired, despite her mood. "Those thick, block heels everyone still insists on wearing are well on their way out."

The lady giggled, daintily. "I'm El, short for Eleanor," she said as she held out an immaculately manicured hand. "I represent JBU. Have you been to our booth yet?"

"Anaya." She took the woman's hand. "Ana, if you like to save time, as I do."

"Can't wait to leave school behind and start living life, am I right?"

That was blunt. El was the kind of gal Anaya had hoped to be in her thirties.

El paused, studying Anaya more closely. "What? It's the same with most of my recruits. My parents actually forced me into it. Naturally, I hated it, right up until age sneaked up on me. Only then was I grateful for my parents, who threatened to cut me off entirely if I didn't get an education. I hope you make the right decision, Ana." Then she resumed walking.

"And what did you do?" Anaya called after her.

"Those who can, do... Those who want to do more, teach. George Bernard Shaw wasn't right about everything." El cast a smile over her shoulder and disappeared into the maze.

That was it. That was the answer. Sometimes the simplest of sentences could change one's life. It wasn't that being a doctor wasn't good enough. Anaya just wanted... more.

Could it really be that easy? If I had just showed up to school that day instead of beginning my modeling career, would this path have just fallen into my lap like this? Or was it that she was so desperate for a new one that she was laser-focused on finding it? Her instincts were screaming at her to stop, think, reconsider all that had happened today. Perhaps the stress of an unprecedented string of events such as dying, being brought back, sent through time, then living again had triggered it, but Anaya could feel the hypomania setting in. And she just couldn't stop.

Jolting back to her immediate surroundings, Anaya got up and followed the great shoes. El reached her destination and offered a booklet and some flyers from Jean-Baptiste University in Faircrest.

Not knowing what else to do, Anaya took them, nodded, gave a carefree flick of her hair and cat-walked her way out of there.

Hi there!
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G.