The Butterfly Ethic/5

5

           My time travel attempt failed. I stood under the tree thinking about what I did wrong.

           “So how’d it go?” Nephi asked as he and Sam approached me.

           “What?” I asked.

           “Yesterday you said you were going somewhere.” He said. “Did you go?” “No.” I said. Christopher responded the way any fifth grader would

           “Now you have to make us cookies.”

           “He does?” Sam asked.

           “Yeah, Corinne makes us make cookies when we be bad, and Martin has some for us.” Nephi told him.

           “What did you do?” Sam asked.

           “Got in a fight with Christopher.” I said. Sam shook his head.

           “I take better care of my fellow students, but if I were you, I’d put cayenne pepper in, and lots of it.”

           “It’s a good thing I’m not like you.” I said. I still liked the idea though, but that was something I didn’t dare do. They’d only hate me more, so I used the regular recipe. I put the cookies in the oven and went in the living room, where there was a news broadcast about a foreign woman who bought an antique painting from a flea market and sold it to the BYU history department for seven hundred thousand dollars. Some people had all the luck.



           That was all I could recall, the rest of my dream perished as I left it. I tried throughout the morning to figure out what I needed to do. When we went into Rose’s classroom that morning, I waited for school to start next to a kid practicing his violin. I didn’t know who he was, but I knew he was from one of the more obscure polygamist families. His inferior blood was marked by a bruise on his neck given to him by Giovanni.

           Someone needs to teach that kid a lesson, I thought, and then I realized, someone did: The Wizard already did. Why didn’t I think of it before, that crazy guy was able to trace Giovanni to his house and steal my notebook back, if he was able to do that, and if he gave my notebook back to me, then he probably gave the picture back to the terrorist from the flea market. Oh, the number of days I wasted not knowing this.

           [i]I still needed to talk to Giovanni though, only to find out what he did with the picture. It was at lunchtime that I went on the move to find him; he was right in the cafeteria, sitting a few feet from me; gossiping with his messmate about one of the boys in eighth grade. At least it wasn’t me this time, though I knew it would be after I asked him, so it would be a better idea to do so after lunch, or at least after we were done eating. We finished about the same time, for I tried my best to stomach the food while listening to him. The meal was potato soup, which wasn’t too bad. The meat tasted okay, it was nothing like what Sam would make, but the next four hours would be the probation.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           After I finished, I walked outside and found him playing basketball with his henchmen. I pretended to be playing elimination with the boys on the other hoop while I waited for Giovanni to be alone. Lunch break was nearly over when he finally stepped away from the game. I took the chance and strode away from the elimination line.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Giovanni.” I said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “What do you want?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “There was a picture in that notebook you stole last week.” I said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “So what?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “I want to know where it his.” I said. He threw me a perplexed look.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Well, I saw it.” He said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “What did you do with it?” I asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Robert threw it in the garbage.” This was true from his viewpoint, since to Giovanni, “garbage” and “catholic church” are synonymous terms.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “He did?” I asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Sure, even ask him.” Said Giovanni. “Hey Robert!” he called.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Yeah?” Robert asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Com’ere for a second” Robert left his post at the game and ran over to us. “Martin want’s to know what you did with the picture.” Said Giovanni.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “I threw it away.” He told me. “Why? Was it worth something to you.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Yes, actually.” I declared.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “What was it?” Robert asked. “Was it worth a lot of money? Were you going to sell it on eBay and make a million dollars?” he asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Of course not, I was just wondering what you did with it?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Well, we threw it away.” Said Giovanni.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Yeah, so you can say goodbye to your antique painting,” Robert taunted. “Unless you’re willing to go dumpster diving for it.” Robert expected retaliation on my part, for at the slightest movement of my arm; he grabbed it and bent it backward as if to break it. “Getting feisty aren’t we?” he said. Ross and Sam happened to be watching from afar and came to my aid.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “What are you doing?” Ross shouted.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Teaching him a lesson.” Said Robert.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “He didn't do anything.” Ross argued.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">            “He tried to hit me.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Bull crap.” said Ross. “You're just looking for an excuse to beat him up, and your giving me one to beat you up.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           Robert let go of my arm and stepped back. “I would love to see you try, but I’m missing my game.” Robert and Giovanni left me to Ross and Sam.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “You really need to stop picking fights with them.” Said Ross.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “I wasn’t.”I said. “They started it.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “They did.” Said Sam. “I saw it.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Really?” Ross asked. “Well, you shouldn’t provoke them.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Or at least be prepared to stand up for yourself.” Sam added.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “All right, fine.” I said. “Shouldn’t we be playing dodge ball or something?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “That sounds fun.” Said Ross.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal;tab-stops:35.3pt 1.0in 171.0pt">           “Yeah, come on, let’s go.” Sam added. We went off to the dodge ball field, and while I sat in my pyre, I thought to myself.

I could tell by Giovanni’s voice. He thought I had the picture. This meant that he probably didn’t really throw it away. It was obvious what actually happened. The wizard took the painting, and he gave it to that Muslim girl. All I had to do was go the college and get it back from her.

I was last on the bus that day, and had to sit on the front seat behind Corinne. To make a long story short, I got out of my seat to go sit by Freya and Nephi. Christopher told on me, and I was told to make cookies again. Corinne’s decision probably had more to doo with my rude behavior the last time I made cookies, because she told me to make sure the people who didn’t get some last time got some. I decided that Christopher would get as much as he wanted this time. When I got home, I got out my recipe and made my own modifications. A cup of flour, four eggs, a tablespoon of baking soda, a half cup of honey, a tablespoon of cayenne pepper, two tablespoons of garlic salt, a half cup of chlorophyll, a half cup of cod-liver oil, a half cup of wheat germ oil, and 3 tablespoons of ground comfrey. All of these ingredients sat together on the counter with the mixing bowl.

“What are you doing?” Rachel asked as she walked in.

“Making cookies.” I said.

“Huh.” She said as she looked over the ingredients. “You know, I have some cyanide in my room if you want to add that too.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Never mind.” Said Rachel.

“Hey Rachel,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“When are you going to college again?”

“I’m in college,” she said. “And I’m going to the campus on Monday.”

“Can I go with you?” I asked.

“Why?” she asked.

“I need to find someone there.” I said.

“What? Martin, you can’t just find people that easily at the community college. It’s a big place.”

“Well, I know what class she’s taking.”

“Who is it?” Rachel asked. I paused to think. I didn’t get her name from her.

“I don’t know her name, but she has something I want.” I told Rachel some of the story, replacing the dictionary story with a dream and threw in the words “direction from The Lord” to make it sound more convincing. I also told her of the crazy man, and that he was dressed like a Lord of the Rings character. Rachl had an undyingloyalty to The Lord of the Rings, the books, that is.

"”Okay, I’ll see what we can find.” Rachel said.

“Really?” I asked. I couldn’t believe my luck; I didn’t think it would actually work.

“yeah, but we probably won’t find anything.” She said, but I didn’t believe her, I felt lucky. “How much,” she asked. “Was the picture worth?”

“I think it was around a half a million.” I told her. Her mouth opened in utter shock.

“What?, I don’t believe that!!”

“I don’t either,” I replied. “That’s why I want to get it back, to find out.”

“Yeah, but I sure feel bad for whoever you’re taking it from.” She said.

“So do I.” I said.

“I’m kidding, Martin.” She said, but I wasn’t, this dilemma bothered me since I got the picture. I was stealing it. It was easy for me to argue that the moment she set the picture on the table, it was mine, but I tricked her into putting it there.

Here I stood faced with a two-headed dragon. One head antagonized me with my own moral dilemmas, and the other took the form of a deranged man with a Gandalf Complex. It was later that night, however, that this dragon grew yet another head.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-indent: 35.45pt;line-height:normal">[ii]“Gregory is a nice man.” She told me. “But he is turning you over to people who aren’t nice people.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Who is he sending me to.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “He was told by Haley Fultz that you need to take a psychological examination, they’re trying to send you to a psychiatrist.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Why?” I asked. “Didn’t the doctor say I was normal.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “He did.” Mom told me. “This wasn’t his decision. It’s the Shield and Refuge that decided this. Martin, they don’t want to help you, they only want to do one thing.” Those words ran over me. “Martin, they want to prove you’re neglected, that way they’ll have a case.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Prove that I’m neglected.” I said. “If they do this, they’ll take all the kids away, won’t they?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Not just us.” She said. “If they get a chance to prove that polygamist children are morally neglected, they might be able to pass a law saying that polygamy in itself is child abuse.” She said. “Don’t give them that chance.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I won’t” I replied. I embraced her and went off to bed, but was unable to sleep. I thought about how much I hated the state. I hated how they talked about improving our society and making the world a better place, yet deliberately tried to make the world a worse place for us.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           I didn't know how it would help, but I thought that if I couldn't get any more memories from the future, I should get that picture back from the Muslim. We needed the money more than she did, and we'd make better use of it. She was probably going to use it to buy some bombs and blow up the college or something. Rachel and I were a bit more of decent people.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           On Saturday night, there was a reception and a dance being held at one of the Lodestar units. Giovanni’s mother made him go, so he got in the passenger seat of his sister’s car.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Patrick’s coming too.” He told his sister, Claudia.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “He’d better hurry.” Said Claudia. He did hurry, who wouldn’t with the rain pounding the way it was. He opened the passenger door and found Giovanni in his seat.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “My seat,” Giovanni said. “Maybe you can drive- oh wait, you don’t have a lisence.” Patrick pulled Giovanni out and got in the front seat. Giovanni knew better than to get back in and got in the back seat. Claudia then sped off to Lodestar. As they drove off through the rain, Giovanni thought he’d start a conversation.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Don’t worry, Patrick, Soren didn’t get his license until he was 18, or was it 19?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “So?” Patrick asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Well, look at him now.” Giovanni told him. “He’s successful.” What Giovanni didn’t mention was that his father also never got his license suspended, had a good job at age eighteen, didn’t spend his free time killing things, and didn’t in fights with crazy old guys in his backyard. Patrick was thinking about that too, because as they drove, Patrick asked Giovanni if he ever figured out who the wizard was.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “No, I didn’t.” Giovanni said. “but on Monday, Robert and me were looking around for him, and we found out he went to a catholic church.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           ”Why?” Patrick asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Well, there was this picture that Martin had, and we threw it out the window there, and the wizard went to get it. The question is: how did he know it was there?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “He probably saw you throw it out.” Said Patrick.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Or someone he knew, also, Martin got his notebook back, so he was obviously a friend of Martin, but martin didn’t get the picture back.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “So, what about it?” Patrick asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I don’t know.” Giovanni said. Patrick seemed to accept that as an answer, because he was silent the rest of the way. Giovanni tried to point out that the Wilson family lived near them, but Patrick didn’t reply. It wasn’t until they got to the dance that Patrick replied again. He closed the front door to shut out the rainy weather, and then waited for Claudia to get out of earshot.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           [iii]“The Wilsons are Woodhulls, you know that right?” Patrick asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “yeah.” Giovanni replied.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Lylah Wilson is Mary Woodhull’s daughter.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “yeah, but don’t you beat those guys up like every few days?” Giovanni joked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Some are wimps, but there are stronger ones. Erwin worked for those guys before, they’re up to no good.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “You think it was them?” Giovanni asked in unbelief.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Maybe, I have old enemies there who may be on the rise.” Patrick said. “I want you to find out more about that picture, get it if you can.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “But I don’t know where it is.” Giovanni said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Then find it.” Said Patrick. “Find out from Martin who that was, force it out of him if you can.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           We weren’t too happy with going to the dance either, but we had to do it. Freya, Abinadi, and I left the younger ones behind and went with Patrick, Rachel, and Jean, one of my half-sisters. The whole way, Patrick was listening to political talk radio. Freya and I sat in the back seat with our generic jeans and tennis shoes while everyone else wore their dress clothes. We both anticipated that we’d be able to sneak off with the other kids who didn’t want to dance, which was a real possibility without our mom being there. The drive seemed to drag on forever, and by the time we got there, Freya was asleep. I rubbed her shoulder, and she started mumbling.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Glenn,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you say, just stop talking.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Freya!” I said. She jolted up from her seat. “We’re here.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           [iv]“Oh,” she said, sounding like she’d rather stay asleep. She still went with me, for sleeping in a van at night isn’t something you do in March, or in urban Salt Lake City. Outside the building a few of the boys in Freya’s class stood under a floodlight that shone from the roof. All of the girls were dancing, so Freya had to make do with them. Abinadi and I stayed with them too because I was caught in Nephi’s story about his latest bout with one of the drunkards in his neighborhood.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “He’s there every Saturday until they sober up on Sunday.” Nephi told us. “And I got myself a big stick and poked him, right in the bottom! And then, he tried to throw his beer bottle at me, but he was too drunk to aim it.” Our laughter was broken when our light was eclipsed. We looked up and saw a magpie moving around by the light.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Get down from there!” Abinadi shouted at the bird. He picked a rock up from the gravel and threw it at the magpie. It flew away, but Abinadi’s noise attracted Amber.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Hello, Sister Amber.” Nephi said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Shouldn’t you be dancing?” she asked him.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I would, but I don’t know how to dance.” Sam said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “then learn.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “But,” sam said. “from who?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “You have plenty of sisters who know how to dance, and some of your classmates are in there too!” Amber told him. “That goes for all of you, come on.” She escorted us in the room, where my eyes had to adjust to the lighting. Once they did, I went to find an empty seat to sit down. Nobody was going to make me get involved in the bustle on the dance floor. I saw a few kids my age out there; Giovanni was dancing with someone wearing a peach skirt that looked like roadkill, I assumed she was his sister, and Sam was dancing with Amber, who was nearly twice his height.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           Giovanni was dancing with Claudia, and remembered his ear for music., though he was not pleased to rediscover this.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">He reached my seat, and said: “Get out of my seat, Martin!” I did what he told me to do, and went off to find a new seat. It was here that I ran into Gwen Faber. Like me, she was dressed down in jeans her tan jacket, but her true chemistry shined through, she wanted to dance, and wasn’t getting asked, so she asked me.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I don’t know how to dance.” I said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Then learn, come on I’ll teach you.” She said. “Come on.” she led me out to the floor and gave me instructions. “Take my hand in yours, and put your other hand on my waist.” I felt a bit embarrassed, being led by a girl who I should be asking to dance, but there was no denying, she was better than I was, but it didn’t take me very long to get the hang of it. The basic steps seemed very familiar, and soon we were engaged in conversation.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “So how are things going for you?” she asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I’m doing okay.” I replied.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Just okay?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Yeah, why.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “It seemed to be going a lot better when you were boasting about your time travelling.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I wasn’t boasting.” I said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Then what was it?” she asked. I had no answer. “It’s okay, if I went back in time, I’d probably brag about it too, though no one would believe me.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Well, he asked about my journey, so I told him.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “About the forest?” she asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “The forest?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “The one where the trees grow backward.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Oh yeah, that.” I said. I forgot how much I told them.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I don’t get it though.” Gwen said. “If they grow backwards, wouldn’t they start big and then get smaller?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I dunno, that’s just what I saw. It was only a dream though.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “That was some dream,” she said. The song was getting over at this point. “My cousin gets dreams like that all the time.” She said as she walked back to her seat. My seat was standing over by the wedding pictures with Freya’s friends. Everyone who was there before Amber found their way to that area.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           Freya was the first to talk about her dance.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “The guy only talked about how I’m the sister of the kid who can travel through time.” She complained.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Oh yeah?” I asked. “Well, my partner only talked about how I am the kid who can travel through time.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “What’d you say?” Nephi asked.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “I said it was just a dream.” I told him.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Dream?” Christopher butted in. “More like a delusion, you’re the laughingstock of the school, Martin.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Illusion, Christopher.” Freya said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “What?” he said.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “If you are to insult Martin, do it properly.” She said. “The word ‘delusion’ doesn’t mean what you think it does, You are thinking of ‘illusion’.” Nephi and Sam took a step away from Freya.

<p style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">           “Whatever, Martin, you’ll never be the same again, you’re insane and everyone knows it.” Christopher taunted.