He pushed everyone out of the house, making Max tie his laces on the go. Even though they tried to pick clothes that fit William, he still looked weird. White sneakers a size too big, black jeans that almost touched the ground and were held up by sheer will, begging, and a belt, and a red plaid shirt thrown over a gray T-shirt—which was the only thing that looked halfway decent. They also stuck a sun cap and sunglasses on him. Even though he still needed twenty rings on his fingers and tattoos to complete the gangster look, William liked it. Even if he had to constantly hike up his pants. Either way, he convinced Lucas to share—or rather, to permanently give him—a pair of boxers, so the threat of standing naked in the middle of the market was no more.

And despite all of Lucas’s pleading, William couldn’t help himself and was whipping his head around with such force checking out the city center that any owl would envy him. The signs, inflatable dolls, the insane number of cars and scooters, bikes and those electric samovar-looking things both scared and thrilled him. He tried to talk the guys into taking a ride, just a short one, but they didn’t have any coins and only pulled out some kind of card. William suspected he was being tricked, but couldn’t find any proof. In his time on the island, people paid either with coins or manual labor.

Max had to save him a few times from speeding bikers and scooter riders, and even gave a whole lecture on electric cars. William already suspected they’d be getting home late, probably at night, and Max wouldn’t get around to cleaning the hallway. They’d already spent half an hour listening to William’s screams of disbelief from the past when his “market” turned out to be a massive five-story building.

“Okay, we’re going downstairs now—lots of discount clothes and thrift shops, just don’t get lost…”

But William had no intention of listening to him. The attention of the guest from the past was caught by something else entirely, and even the sweaty efforts of his new friends couldn’t make him look away.

Instead of staying nearby like Lucas asked, he wandered into a luxury clothing store, and the staff were already helping him try on a ridiculously expensive fur coat and holding his coffee.

Max clutched his heart, already imagining how much this might cost them. He sat down on a bench and buried his face in his hands while Lucas ran in to rescue their new headache from the jaws of good service.

“Sorry about my cousin—he hit his head surfing as a kid, ladies. All our money goes to his treatment,” Lucas said in a fast-paced rap and started dragging William out of the store. “Are you out of your mind? How are you planning to pay for that coat? With your kidneys? And why the hell do you need a fur coat in Australia?”

“Well, I saw the lights, and then the leopard print… Next thing I knew, I had a coffee in hand!” William cried out, yanking his arm back. “I just love shopping. Don’t always have the money, but nobody said I can’t look!”

“Look in the thrift shop,” Lucas pulled him toward the bench. “Look at poor Max—his soul’s escaping! Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Max, don’t die!” William whined dramatically. “Wanna trade? I’ll clean the hallway for you!”

“Dying’s expensive,” Max muttered. “Put me on a board and send me into the ocean, if it comes to that. William, for future reference, we kinda... don’t have much money, okay?”

“Well, I’ve got none. I’m literally wearing someone else’s underwear,” William grinned at them. “Alright, alright. It’s just, in my time everything’s so different. We don’t even have stores like this, let alone the clothes! Everything in the past is so dull, and here it’s bursting with color, styles, lights. I should buy some money!”

Max knew this wasn’t gonna be easy. He and Lucas were pretty neutral about shopping—only went into stores when necessary, and within an hour could find cheap, acceptable clothes. At first, they felt bad for William, who’d been deprived of choice and opportunity in his time, but soon enough they were growling and threatening to bury him in the backyard.

Out of thirty-six clothing racks, they went through every single one. He looked at and touched every item, held them up to himself. Didn’t matter that some sweaters were so big all three of them could fit inside comfortably. Max played the role of mover and porter, running between the fitting rooms and clothing racks, while Lucas got the joyless job of judging whether William’s pale skin clashed too much with various pairs of jeans. He repeated seventeen thousand times that they only had a hundred bucks for him and could only afford one pair of pants, a couple of T-shirts, socks, and underwear—so he’d stop wearing someone else’s. And William really did seem more like a kid who’d been hit on the head a few times during surfing.

“Let’s just kill him here and get it over with?” Lucas said to Max, looking William straight in the face without a hint of emotion. “I’ll hold him, and you pull the jeans over his head. Turns out, if he can’t bite, he’s manageable.”

“I’ve got many talents—you don’t wanna test them,” William squinted. “Come on, you guys live in a world of options, colors, and stone markets… I grew up in the seventies where your only choice was blue or green surfing trunks.” He smirked, looking at a T-shirt. “Wish Noah could see this…”

And that’s when even Lucas gave in. He looked at Max, who turned away to hide the tears in his eyes. William looked ridiculous and naive. At first, they thought the guy needed a psychiatrist, but more and more, they were leaning toward an impossible paradox over a diagnosis—schizophrenia.

Lucas and Max had to dig deep and pick clothes that William would feel comfortable in. So, when they left the store with a tiny bag, all hope for cleaning the hallway died in everyone. No strength left. They promised him that next time they’d go shopping in another century or just send William off on his own. First, though, they had to teach him how to use Google Maps. And maybe start by just telling him about the internet.

When they got from the ground floor to the first, William was gone again. Max immediately clutched his chest, staring at the Apple store.

“I’m here,” William waved at them.

“Don’t be dramatic—he’s right there,” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“Guys, guys…” William started, before they even opened their mouths. “Have you ever been here before? In my time, McDonald’s opened right before summer ‘71. The lines were insane! Noah and I always wanted to go, but either we had no money, or no time to wait in those mile-long lines! So what’s it like? Is it good?”

“Well,” Max said, showing a palm with some bills and coins.

He looked at the change left over from the clothing haul. They had ten dollars. Not enough for all three of them, but William would get his well-deserved cheeseburger with fries and a Coke. He looked at Lucas, who shook his head and smiled.

“Come on, you’ll find out for yourself if it’s good,” Max grinned.

“Really?” William lit up like a shiny coin.

“We’ll even let you buy it yourself, but we’ll help you with the menu, okay?” Lucas tugged William toward the escalator.

“How exciting! Almost like buying a fur coat!”

“WILLIAM!” Max yelled.

As they rode up to the food court, the guys were already groaning from William’s curiosity. He asked so many questions, by the fifth floor their heads were about to explode. But the joy of his upcoming first McDonald’s trip wasn’t the end. When he saw all the other restaurants, cafés, and little food joints, he literally stopped talking and just gawked at everything, mouth wide open. Once again, William’s innocence smothered all the irritation and fatigue the guys were feeling. They followed him around for another half hour before finally grabbing his arms and guiding him to the main event.

It was a weekend, so the place was packed. Seats were almost impossible to find. Only one spot in the far corner, and ahead of them, a line of twenty schoolkids. Lucas suggested loading the ten bucks onto a card later and showing William how to navigate the menu using the digital kiosk.

“Okay, William, this is an important mission!” Max grabbed his cheeks and made him focus, not on the people carrying trays. “There’s no place to sit. Lucas and I are gonna find a spot, then come back to you, and we’ll all order together, okay? Don’t go anywhere. Got it? The kids’ line is long—I’ll be back in time.”

“Got it, just let go of my cheeks,” William mumbled. “I don’t even have the magic money card!”

“Right,” Max said again, and they started to leave. “Be right back.”

William watched them go looking for seats, and the way Max looked at him. He actually felt a bit guilty for being so helpless. But there was no time for self-pity. A problem snuck up on him that nobody could’ve predicted. The kids stood as one giant group, and when their teacher ordered everything, they all moved to the pickup counter. And William ended up in a bit of an awkward spot.

He had no idea how to use this miracle machine, and the people behind him started clearing their throats and pressuring him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, turned to find Max—but the savior with the dramatic flair did not appear.

William turned back to the screen and poked at it, copying what the previous people had done—and froze. Dozens of menu items fried his brain. He kept in mind he only had ten bucks. When the guy behind him coughed for the third time, William couldn’t take it anymore and turned around:

“Sir, go see a doctor, I think you’ve got bronchitis,” William said in a voice just slightly lower than necessary to sound more manly, then turned back to the screen. “Where are you, Max…”

“Let me guess, your parents left you alone without a card?”

A soft, even gentle voice sounded right by William’s ear, along with a whiff of menthol breath. Someone’s shadow fell over him—but that wasn’t as unsettling as the hand that casually landed on his shoulder and nudged him slightly closer.

William’s head turned slowly, like a rusty puppet, toward the stranger. It was a guy half a head taller, with short light-colored hair. Even the sarcastic-gentle tone didn’t take away from his rugged appearance: a leather jacket with spikes, a white V-neck T-shirt underneath, ripped blue jeans and Converse sneakers. His eyebrow, lip, and cross-shaped earring completed the full rockstar image. The stranger’s hand tightened on William’s shoulder, and he turned toward him, locking eyes and leaning in:

“Need help picking something?” His lips curled into a smirk, and it wasn’t clear if he was mocking or flirting. “Come on, kid, answer. People are waiting,” the stranger tilted his head. “And so am I.”

“I…” William whispered, gathering his thoughts and, after swallowing, replied. “I choose to smash your face in, you drunken tattoo artist’s victim.”

And that got a reaction not just from the strangers, but from the whole line.