Hometown

As I reflected on this new reality, I thought about how to build my wealth from practically nothing. I remembered having a bank account that my father opened for me, but it barely had any money in it.

My family would never give me any substantial amount either; I wasn't good with money until much later in life, often being quite a spender.

Just thinking about how they spent over $70,000 for my education made it even less likely that they would be willing to provide me with any extra cash.

My knowledge about market movements before 2004, when I became deeply involved, was also limited.

Although I knew a few of the leading companies and some of the biggest gainers at the time, buying and selling dozens of stocks within a year to make the highest gains wouldn't be possible.

Shoot.

If I knew this was going to happen, I would have remembered some lottery numbers.

A few minutes later, the bus drove into the suburbs. Outside the window, I saw quiet residential neighborhoods with neatly trimmed lawns and rows of single-story houses. Kids rode their bikes and families walked their dogs.

These were the early 2000s that I remembered. It was a simpler time, a time before social media.

The kids played outside instead of paying in their virtual worlds and the teens talked with each other while walking to school instead of staring into their phones.

There were places like Blockbuster Video where people still went to rent movies on a Friday night.

Netflix was up and running, but it wasn't so popular yet, with barely a million or so subscribers.

But anyway, I'm beginning to sound like a boomer.

Right behind me, I could hear someone making out; I think it was forbidden in school, but the bus driver was purposefully not paying any attention.

Good for them.

On that note, I never had any kids… Would I want one this time?

My whole life, I lived to make my wife happy.

She never proposed having a child either. As for why I found out the hard way.

She never loved me in the first place.

However, now that I had a new timeline, I could take the less-trodden road. I had a fresh canvas to paint my new life story.

I would have to choose where to go.

I was so wrapped up in trying to collect my thoughts that I failed to notice when the bus stopped at my old high school in Wahneta.

There was the usual fussing as the alpha males and the popular kids at the back left the bus first. It's amazing how immature one can be even at that age. They shoved people around, as if it granted some form of invisible status.

There were always people who liked to boss around the others, and to be honest, that never changed. Maybe it was a way to assert dominance or mask insecurities, but the dynamics were the same even for adults.

Maybe, due to wanting to get some revenge, some of the smart kids who were bossed around during middle school and high school would end up bossing around others when they got the position that enabled them to do so.

That wasn't the case for everyone, of course. Some retained their humility and empathy, choosing not to perpetuate the cycle.

Thinking about it, wasn't I also trying to get revenge?

As I got off the bus, I walked away with Jacob.

"Ey, Faggot!" Someone nudged me hard in the arm, snapping me out of my reflections.

A big guy stopped me just as we left the school borders. I think his name was Bob. He might have been wider than me, but he wasn't much taller.

"Yes?" I said, looking at him.

Bob made a weird face. "Yes? Is that all you have to tell me? I had something planned, and because of you, I needed to wait for over an hour. Are you trying to start trouble?"

"No. I'm trying to stop trouble. I'm a peaceful kind of guy."

"Peaceful my ass; you're full of shit is what you are. Watch out, dude," he said, glaring at me before turning and walking away.

Well... I hope Bob won't think about doing something stupid.

Some teens had their cars already and would drive home, while others asked their parents to pick them up. Jacob and I always walked home since we lived close by.

Jacob was a chatterbox and a half.

I was surprised at the immaturity of his conversation as we trodded back home. It centered on his fictional sexual exploits with girls I'd never met, which girls at our school he'd like to fuck, and other typical teenage posturing.

I had to remind myself that my conversation back then had been pretty much the same and that I now had more than thirty years of maturity over him.

When he spoke, I reacted appropriately by nodding. He noticed no change in me. I'd always been quiet anyway.

We finally made it to my house.

"Alright, man, catch you later," he said, reaching out his hand.

Oh shit. We used to do some complicated handshakes back in the day.

I paused, trying to recall the sequence. It had been so long since I'd done this.

I clasped his hand, pulling him in for a quick shoulder bump, then releasing with a snap.

He grinned, seemingly satisfied.

"Later, dude," he said, walking away with a casual wave.

"See you," I replied. Damn, I must be sounding so awkward. I completely forgot the slang.

I watched him go for a moment before turning to look at my house—a modest one-story home with a red brick exterior and a neatly trimmed front lawn—simple, but it was just enough for my small family.

I took a deep breath as I prepared to step back into my old life.

It was 6 p.m. so everyone should be back home. I hardly remembered what their faces looked like back then.

I walked up to the porch, scrubbing my shoes on the mud scraper at the door before pushing it open wide.

I didn't even make it inside when the sight of my mother greeted me. She was young. She had short, blond hair that ended at her ears. She was tall for a woman, around 5' 9" (1.77m) and was in good shape.

She looked at me casually, "Good timing, honey. Dinner in 5 minutes." she said with a smile.

I didn't know how to react; I stood rooted in place with a smile on my face. All I could think about was seeing my father and sister as well.

I entered the house, kicked off my shoes, and took a moment to look around.

The sofa... right, the sofa. My father would always sit there when he came back from work.

And there he was, sitting with a bottle of beer in hand, watching the news on TV. He looked remarkably young, resembling a younger version of myself in my later years, albeit maybe slightly less handsome.

I got the good looks from my mother.

Caught in my thoughts, my father noticed me staring, "You okay, Jack?" he spoke up, concern in his voice,

"Oh, sure, Dad," I replied with a nod. "I was just picturing you with grey hair."

"What?" he asked, bemused.

"Nothing," I said quickly, not sure if I wanted to reveal the fact that I traveled through time. I needed to think about it carefully.

"Sydney! Dinner!" my mother called out.

Within seconds, I saw my sister running through the hallway.

Sydney! I couldn't believe it. Sydney my younger sister. It was a shock because I vividly remembered the tragedy that had shattered our family during her senior year of high school.

She'd been killed on the night of her high school graduation. The car she'd been riding in, piloted by a drunken college student, was speeding and losing control while trying to beat a red light. Their car collided with a large truck crossing the intersection.

Sydney, along with two of her close friends, died a few hours later in the hospital, while the driver miraculously survived the accident.

Seeing her standing before me now, alive and well, after all these years, brought a flood of conflicting emotions.

Sydney was alive!

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