Far away in a different place and time, Wes flashed into existence in André’s office. It was midday on a Friday, with the sun outside the window and casting harsh shadows across the room. André, who was writing an email on his computer, was taken off guard and still looked startled as Wes turned to him, a worn expression on his face.

           “Wes, what are you doing here? At least make an appointment. You can’t just show up whenever you want! What if I was in a meeting?”

           “You’re a hard man to talk to,” Wes grumbled. “You’re never available when I call, and I can’t exactly leave a message, since I only pass through the early 90s a few minutes at a time. It’s easier just to get into the office that’s still being moved into up here in 1996 and go back from there. I get the feeling that you’re ignoring me, ‘partner.’”

           “Are you time-traveling with reckless abandon now? That’s dangerous. And haven’t you considered that, just maybe, I’ve told you all that I wanted to already? If we do this too much, it might interfere with my door project and cause a paradox.”

           “Relax. I only came here to ask for a small favor.” Wes walked over to the wall calendar hanging by André’s shelf, featuring a Monet painting and a date grid full of notes for August, 1991. “I like this year. The last remnants of the 80s begin to fade away, giving way to the colors, geometric patterns, and… irreverent humor of the 90s.”

           “Wes, it’s just another year.” André sighed and shook his head. “You always did over-analyze them—memorize too much about every single one… Where’s the kid?”

           “Summer camp. I get two weeks to myself, to work on me for a bit.” Wes turned to him with a small smile. “I stopped the earthquake from happening. It was a bomb in the lab all along. Appeared from a portal with minutes to go. Got a bit tense at the end.”

           “Well, that’s good to hear. You saved the city. Now go save yourself.”

           “That’s a work in progress.” Wes reached into the 1980s leather jacket he was really starting to like and pulled out the encased floppy disk marked ‘Toys’, which he held between two fingers like he was some cunning gambler holding a playing card. “I need you to take a look at this. I tried, but I don’t have the time or patience.”

           “You’re well-versed in tech and code, Wes—more skilled than myself when we worked down in the lab. And I’m busy. The Soviet Union just formally dissolved, and you’d be surprised how many reveling millionaires are suddenly interested in new construction contracts. What do you expect me to do, anyway?”

           “It’s a script or program, but I can’t tell what it does.” Wes put the disk on the desk. “Break it down into bits of code, reverse engineer it, whatever. Work on it a day a week if you want—you’d still have more time to figure it out than I got left in ’96.”

           André exhaled sharply and picked up the floppy. “Where did you get this?”

           “My personal safe, down in the lab. I need to know what I put on it.”

           “You just can’t help yourself. Always digging deeper into the past, or future, or past-future. Whatever it is at this point. Fine, Wes. I’ll do what I can and see you in…”

           “A year from now. Open up an hour in your schedule.”

           “I suspect we’ll be shutting down operations by then, but very well. If it keeps you from doing anything stupid until then. Just… don’t use that crystal you apparently fixed to drag out your nostalgia trip. Your nephew needs to get back to his life.”

           “So do I, I’m told.” Wes set his quartz to his last departure date. “And… I know something happens to your grandfather next year. I hope you solve that mystery, too.”

           “As do I. Take it easy… My old friend.”

           Back at camp, disc golf was followed up by a rather childish “wheelbarrow race” for the small batch of third-graders, which involved one kid holding the legs of another, who had to run across the ground using their hands. All the while, Marianne kept up on her scorekeeping diligently, even while looking a little repulsed by the sight. The younger children still seemed to enjoy it nonetheless, with Min taking her turn as referee.

           “There’s no way this sort of sport is still legal in the future, right?” Millie asked Jace as they watched the spectacle. “It looks like a torture technique.”

           He replied, “Maybe. I hope not. By the way, how are you holding up so far?”

           Millie shrugged. “I’m all right. I think I’m gonna go to the Miller cabin, though. That could be a sitcom, right? ‘Millie and the Millers’?” She waited for a laugh from Jace, but only looked awkward for a moment before adding, “None of those girls will see me as a spy and treat me like one, but I’ll get to observe a bunch of new sub… Um, kids.”

           “Or you could just… not spy on them? By the way, what set off Delilah?”

           She grinned. “Oh, that was a good scene to open camp with. Marianne was trying to get her to ‘make up’ with Spice because she wants our school to be all unified so we have a better chance at winning. She asked three times, and then it didn’t go well.”

           “Good job, hooray,” Min said half-heartedly as the third graders finished their race and Marianne scribbled down another tally mark. “Now it’s time for the egg and spoon race, for the fourth-graders. Where you just balance the egg on the spoon… and race.”

           Few kids wanted to volunteer for this arguably even more ridiculous game, so Min was forced to recruit a few by force. Lucy ended up as one of her school’s reps for the sport of moving as quickly as possible with a spoon in her mouth, trying to keep the egg at the end from falling. She actually did fairly well, beating the Miller boy who kept dropping his yolk. She handed her egg to a girl who made the return trip, and she looked a bit proud of her effort. Wessy did the good big brother thing and cheered her on.

           “That ties up the schools on the races so far…” Marianne said, and looked over at the four potato sacks waiting to be used on the ground. “If only December was on her ‘A game,’ we’d be doing better. Who’s gonna get in the sacks for our turn?”

           “Why don’t you do it?” Sadie replied. “C’mon, show us how it’s done.”

           “Oh, yeah, no thanks,” Marianne declined. “I’m saving my brain power for the more mentally taxing events. Spice! You haven’t contributed to any game yet.”

           “No. Way,” Spice said with a scowl. “I’m not getting into a potato sack like some peasant! Make Tam and Trudy do it. They got that whole teamwork thing going on.”

           “Trude… Do you wanna?” Tammy asked her bestie. “I mean, we don’t have to.”

           “Me and Ash could it,” Arthur volunteered with minimal enthusiasm.

           “I’d rather not,” Ash sighed, taking her brother by surprise based on his reaction.

           Miller’s Celeste and Norm got into sacks as the DTE kids were still debating on their racers. Delilah rolled her eyes and stepped up, but Marianne stopped her.

           “I appreciate it, Delilah, but I know from past experience that, you know… The, um, smaller kids can maneuver better in the big bags and can move faster.”

           Delilah raised a fist. “Oh, are you implying something here?”

           “I’m good at hopping. I’ll do it,” Reynold said, then ran up to a sack and got in.

           Hutch, who hadn’t heard Marianne’s “tip,” got in the other one before she could stop him. She soon watched in shame as both boys fell on their faces halfway across the track. She grumbled and put down another tally for Miller before the race even finished.

           “Ugh…” Hutch groaned from the ground. “I got dirt in my mouth.”

           “Yep…” Marianne muttered. “Awesome. Still stuck in a tie with the other school.”

           “All right, nine o’clock, lights out,” Larry said from the back of the cabin and flicked the switch to conclude the first day of activities.

           He retreated back into his room, and the sound of a portable TV with poor reception and speakers could just barely be heard. The boys—three of them now Miller kids who swapped out—put away the comics, magazines, and Game Boys that had kept them busy for their last half-hour of free time and settled into their bunks.

           “Man, it’s just too early for me,” Wessy whispered from his bottom bunk.

           Colin, below him, replied, “You should’ve done more activities, Wes. They tire you out. But you’ll get used to the schedule in a few days.”

           “At least you guys didn’t leave me for the Miller cabin.”

           “We’re not gonna abandon you, man,” Colin assured him. “Besides, three of ‘em came to us and mixed up the place, anyway. We just got to keep our beds.”

           “I don’t know how I feel about those Miller kids. Some of them are mean.”

           “I heard that!” a sharp, unfamiliar whisper came from somewhere in the cabin.

           Arthur, above Jace, added, “I think we did pretty good for the first day. Even if Marianne kept getting mad at us for not meeting her… uh, expectations.”

           “The real point is to have fun out here,” Colin said. “She wasn’t at all this serious back after third grade. I mean, she was still keeping score, but she had fun doing it.”

           “Now she’s among the older kids and is all serious, grr,” Arthur jokingly growled.

           Wessy audibly rolled around a bit on his old, springy mattress before muttering, “So… can we just keep talking all night, or will that Larry guy yell at us?”

           “Mm… The other campers will yell at you long before he will,” Colin said tiredly. “Ya gotta have a normal bedtime sometimes, Wes. I’m a little more used to nine…”

           After several minutes, Arthur spoke up again, “I think we lost Colin. I recognize his snore. How can he conk out like that, wherever? It’s too hot and quiet in here.”

           “Yeah, it’s weird,” Wessy groaned. “I miss my room. Jace, you still awake?”

           “Not for much longer…” he replied. “Wes, just try to make the best of it, okay?”

           “But this is really different than anything I’m used to, Jason,” Wessy reminded.

           Sleepy and now a little incoherent, Jace responded, “I know a few things about new experiences. They can be good things… You taught me that.”

           “Wait… I did?” Wessy questioned—but Jace fell asleep without elucidating.

           The event-filled days passed by, and the first Friday of camp arrived pretty quickly. The campers got a break from physical activity, giving Marianne nothing to score—though she certainly still tried to find some sort of wins to track.

           It was during the arts and crafts hour in the shade of the pavilion when Wessy admitted to his friends how he was feeling. Amid thousands of popsicle sticks, balls of yarn, bottle caps, and assorted junk the counselors had gathered for the campers to put together, he took a break from his popsicle TV set and let out an empty sigh.

           “What’s wrong, Wes?” Colin asked him.

           Wessy looked over Colin’s shoulder at Lucy, who was focused and trying her hardest to make a good birdhouse out of the materials. She hadn’t really made any friends at camp, though at the same time she didn’t seem to mind just hanging around other fourth graders or staying close to Lex, who she seemed to quietly idolize.

           “I can’t believe Lucy is, like, getting into all this,” Wessy muttered. “She’s happy.”

           Sadie looked back at her and asked Wessy, “Are you not? Even after five days?”

           “I dunno. I feel totally out of my element here. Especially now that a whole ten kids in our cabin swapped with Miller boys. I was so used to be surrounded by kids I had grown up with, who know how I roll, or what I find cool. Maybe I would enjoy all this more if I came last year. Now, I just feel like… I don’t belong.”

           “Well, you can use the camp phone to call your mom and get her to pick you up,” Sadie suggested with a shrug. “I’ve seen campers burn out before. It happens.”

           “I’m not going to be a flake, Sadie. I just wish I could get my mind right.”

           “I wish Ash would get her mind right,” Arthur said, watching as she hung out with Celeste and one of her Miller friends as they made a model windmill together. “She’s been acting like I’m the grossest person in the world or something.”

           “She’s just growing up, Arty,” Sadie explained to him. “Trying to find her own tastes in things. Girls mature faster than boys, remember? Just give her some space.”

           “How… do you know that? You’re an only child.”

           “I watch a lot of Discovery channel. It’ll hit you, too. It’s all about finding your own new interests instead of just doing everything together like you’re used to. Tam and Trudy are the closest the school had to twins other than you guys, and I see it happening to them. Difference is, they’re trying too hard to hold on—and it might drive them crazy.”

           “Oh, man…” Arthur moaned. “Is that what’s been happening? I thought she just woke up one day and thought I was lame or something.”

           “Aw, she still likes you, Arty. Deep down,” Sadie tried to assure him.

           Marianne came over to ruin an insightful conversation, her just-made colorful bead bracelet on display. They had expected the visit, since she had been going around checking on her schoolmates. Complimenting some; giving “friendly” advice to others.

           “Hello,” she said to the table. “You’re making some nice artwork here. I can’t give anyone points, but I still hope you try to… out-nice the Miller kids’ creations. So, anyway, I realized that some people think I’m being annoying…”

           Wessy and Arthur both swallowed a chortle, and Sadie replied, “Oh, not at all.”

           “I know sarcasm when I hear it, Sadie. But that’s okay. I just want to let you know that I will be offering an incentive for winning. My parents have connections, and I’m sure I could scrounge up about four tickets to King Arcade, that I could give out to the winning team, through a drawing. So, remember that and try really hard out there!”