Wes was about to go around the corner and leave with his shopping cart, but he suddenly stopped, looked at something, and hurriedly spun around and returned to Jace. Before he knew what was happening, Wes had grabbed his hand and quickly pulled him to the other side of the aisle. Assuming that they were now hiding from someone, Jace watched as his uncle peeked back into the toy corridor, and then did so himself.

“What’s going on?” Jace whispered. “Why are we hiding?”

“Didn’t think I was here…” Wes murmured back.

Jace watched as a young boy and his mother rounded the corner and stopped in front of the Super Soaker display. He instantly recognized the younger version of his great aunt, yet it took another few seconds to identify the kid near her.

Little Wes had a baggy white and red shirt, large cargo shorts that went past his knees, and plain gray socks snug in his big white Nike sneakers. His understated clothes were not what made him stand out, though. His red baseball cap, tilted just a little to the side, the slap bracelet on his left wrist with a black and white zigzag pattern, and the gray plastic brick clipped onto his shorts were what made him unique, as did his mannerisms.

The ten-year-old wasn’t exactly the happy, carefree kid Jace had imagined. Even after only observing him for a second, he saw that he had the appearance of an eternally impatient child, at least at the moment. He was in a constant state of motion, whether folding or unfolding his arms, tapping his feet, or just swaying from side to side.

“That’s… you…” Jace said.

“Yep. I think I remember this day now. I’m getting a new water gun, one of the big ones. And if I am… I think I break it in during a game later today.”

“A game?”

“I’ll tell you later. The important thing is to be careful. We’re not ready to interact with my younger self.”

“What do you mean not ready? I thought…”

“I mean we shouldn’t interact with Little Wes at all. Yeah, we should only watch him from a distance, like we are right now. Don’t want any paradoxes.”

As the young Wes pointed to several models of the Super Soakers in what looked like an argument with his mom, Jace asked, “What’s that thing at your side?”

“Game Boy power adapter. I always had a Game Boy in my pocket, ready to play at any time. And if I was anywhere near an outlet, I’d plug in and save some batteries.”

“It’s gotta be this one, Mom!” Little Wes had increased his volume enough to be audible. “I need the range! It’s the longest of all the guns.”

“All right. Fine,” she relented. “But I don’t see what’s wrong with your last one.”

“The last one was good! The water tank backpack thing is cool and everything, but the games don’t last long enough and I don’t need all that extra water!”

“Okay, sweetheart, okay. Whatever keeps you running around getting exercise. Oh, geez, look at the size of this thing. And do they have to look… so real?”

He smiled as he grabbed the biggest water gun on the shelf and squeezed it against his chest—and as the box was so long, it ran from his neck to his knees. Satisfied for the day, he placed it carefully into his mother’s shopping cart, which was filled with clothing for the two of them, and went off with her. Once the coast was clear, Wes and Jace stepped back out into the open, and exchanged a quick glance.

“Um…” Jace hesitated before commenting.

“What? What’d you think of me? I was a cool kid, huh?”

“I mean… I don’t talk to my mom like that…”

“Okay. What, you want a reward? She still spoils you anyway, doesn’t she?”

“U-Uncle Wes… My first impression is that you… were kind of a brat?”

“All right, look, I got a little excited and wantsy around toys,” he said defensively.

“Yeah, I see kids like that in the present too, and then I watch as they get dragged out of the store screaming and crying and kicking and—”

“Hold on there, bud. I did not devolve into tantrums. I never let myself lose my cool. Trust me on this one. I didn’t ask for all the toys in the world, either. But when I saw something I knew I needed, like, legitimately, I would be assertive. I would make my case. And then I would be very grateful. Those three steps always worked for me.”

“But the way you…”

“Jace. Jace, listen to me for a second.” Wes placed a hand on his shoulder and took a breath. “My mom would let me know if I ever went too far. And she had me young. So, in some ways, to me, she was kind of like… an older sister, or a really cool babysitter. We kind of, ah, bounced off of each other, you know? It was my dad that flooded me with toys, but that was just to win my approval. But getting stuff from her… That was different. I respected, maybe even treasured her gifts.

“Also, dude, there’s nothing wrong with standing up for yourself a little, even at your age. Show some backbone. Do you even have experience in those things? You can ask for something and take it like a man when you get shot down, instead of turning into a little delinquent puke and throwing a hissy fit about it. It’s called nuance. I think. I dunno what you’d call it. Anyway, I’m sure we’ve given my kid self enough time to get some space from us, so let’s get you some clothes.”

Jace stood there for a few seconds and thought about what his uncle had just told him, and then caught up and joined him in the boys’ clothing department.

Popping into his sight right away was an entire rack of multi-colored pastel polo shirts, all of which looked dull and faded in Jace’s future vision. And he also didn’t understand why he saw a shirt with an angry urban hip-hop-loving Tweety bird on it, much less an entire line of other similarly themed Looney Tunes characters, even though his uncle had “warned” him earlier. Thankfully, solid color clothing still existed, too.

Wes looked at the options. “So, we just need a couple pairs of pants and shorts, and maybe eight shirts or so. What do you have in mind?”

“Why do I need so many if we’re just staying until the weekend?”

“Oh, you know, just in case… Also, hey, you’ll get to take a new wardrobe with you back into the future, surprise your friends with clothes they don’t have.”

“I don’t care about surprising anyone… Can I just get a bunch of simple shirts without logos or pictures? Mostly blues. Maybe a gray or two. Oh, and a slate.”

“How about we compromise and just get you one 1995 version of your current outfit, for, you know, days when you feel insecure, and you trust me with all the other days? I’m no style expert, but I know how to make you look good enough where kids don’t make fun of you. I could get you into a set the young me would be proud of.”

“Why is that important?”

“Uh, because Little Wes could be pretty critical of others’ fashion sense. Luckily, I know my own standards. So if you win my approval, that means you’re gravy.”

“I still don’t see why…” Jace trailed off when he noticed a trio of giggling teenage girls going by, who stopped for a moment, looked at his yet-to-be-designed clothes, laughed to each other, and then moved on.

“That’s why. Right there. Now, come on, do you want a Mortal Kombat shirt, with the dragon on it? How about this Mystery Science Theater one? Oh, here’s some nice Metallica art. Or you could always go with some classic Simpsons flair.”

“Stupid 90s teen girls…” Jace grumbled and tugged at his sleeves. “Bet if they looked back and saw themselves just now, they’d be the ones feeling dumb…”

“Stop being so vindictive and pick out some threads over here.”

Jace tried to, but as an indecisive kid who was out of his element on what constituted functioning fashion for the decade, he let his uncle do most of the work. By the time they were done, the cart was full of clothing, which Wes insisted all needed to be tried on. After giving Jace the cart, he asked for a card with a number nine on it at the fitting rooms desk. The overworked clerk, with racks full of rejected shirts, pants, and dresses to go through, hastily gave them one without giving the two much of a look.

“I don’t need you to come in with me,” Jace insisted as Wes followed him into a changing room, his arms full of clothing. “I can dress myself.”

“And I’m proud of you for that!” Wes said snarkily and placed the haul on the room’s bench. “But you’re still unstable, so if you had brought them in, they might’ve zapped right back out of here, and then the store would think you were shoplifting.”

Jace got the point. He looked at the hill of fabric and reflected on how dreadfully boring it was to go clothes shopping, no matter the current trends.

“Take your time, make sure you look good in all this crap. I got a lot of shopping to do myself, so when you’re done… Uh, you better just wait in here so the clothes don’t snap back inside, out of your grasp. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

“You’re sticking me in a fitting room? What am I supposed to do to kill time?”

“Uh, here.” Wes reached into one of his deep pockets and pulled out a Game Boy that was in pretty good shape. “Play some Tetris. Baby’s first Game Boy game.”

Jace took it and tried to find the power button. “Gee. Thanks.”

Wes gave him a wave and left him alone. After a few moments in the quiet room, which also had the same smell as it did in the future, Jace came to a startling realization: the changing rooms were very likely not updated at all in the following twenty-five years.

• •

An hour later, with two carts by their food court table that were filled with red and white Target bags, Jace nibbled at a small bag of popcorn and watched his uncle munch a hot dog and sip from his second soda of the day. He remembered what was still in his pocket, next to his iPhone, and took out the Game Boy to return it.

“Keep it. It’s yours,” Wes said with a belch. “I wanted to give you a Game Boy Pocket—they’re a lot smaller and lighter—but they won’t be out for over a year. It’ll help you fit in, give you something to play. Bought it before I went back to the present.”

Jace returned the bulky gray portable to his shorts and brought up something he had been meaning to for the last few minutes, “You know, hot dogs are really, really bad for you. Mom lets me have an organic turkey dog like, once a month.”

Wes took a bigger, more determined bite to emphasize that he didn’t really care for Jace’s health tips. “Look at me. Do I tip the scales? Strike you as really unhealthy? If I ate like this all the time, maybe I would—heck, maybe I’d be dead. But I feel like trying some of the food from my youth for a bit while I’m here. I appreciate that Luce watches out for you, but I wouldn’t go through life criticizing others’… decisions.”  

His nephew bit his lip to keep himself from adding something about his uncle’s soda consumption as well, and simply asked instead, “So… what do we do next?”

Wes finished his dog, stood up and stretched as if to celebrate his victory over food, and proclaimed, “Time to find a hotel room. And then the adventure continues.”

Jace fell back in his chair and sighed. “Haven’t we had enough adventure today?”