Young Writers Society

Gabriel was having a similar dilemma. There was just so much. And while he always felt guilty eating around Issac, even his guilt couldn't stop the incredibly strong urge to buy everything on the menu. It wasn't like his stomach would bother him later, anyways.

"I haven't had chocolate chip pancakes in awhile, either," Quinn said. There was a wistful tone to her voice. "My mom never made them for me, but I loved having them..."

Issac and Gabriel exchanged a look.

Without saying a single word, the two decided that they'd make Quinn chocolate chip pancakes the first chance they got. Both were relatively decent cooks; they could at least make them edible.

"I think I'm going to have a chocolate strawberry milkshake," Gabriel said. It had been a long time since he had one of those. "And, hmm..."

He eyed the menu again. He needed to have some kind of breakfast food if he wanted to seem even a little normal, so what would taste good with a milkshake? "You know what? Chocolate chip pancakes sound good, with a side of home fries."

Issac gave a small smile as he folded up his menu.

"I'm not that hungry right now," he said. "I'll pass on breakfast."

Quinn and Gabriel nodded as if they hadn't already known that he'd say that. Issac never ate.

Not that he could, anyways.

Harper sat cheerfully down and ordered that strawberry milkshake and fries. If the others were volunteering to pay she didn't have to worry about her no-money problem. She just had to worry about the brain freeze she'd inevitably get from the shake.

"So," she said, folding her arms on the table and looking around at the other conspiratorily, "what kinda mojo do you think brought us here?" She sat back in her seat and leaned her head back, "Personally, I'm a little miffed about the clothes and the timing, but I'd say this is all a pretty big improvement over where I was in life." She chuckled. She was homeless, so family, no money, and it was better than her small, idyllic little town in the country.

It was, though. Better. Back home there was only so much to do, so much to be a part of besides the boring old church. There were only so many times the local kids could throw the same party, saturated with cheap or stolen alcohol and a pack or two of cigarettes. Only so many times Harper could get Melissa, the preacher's daughter, to run off in the middle of the night for a makeout session. During the day they couldn't even do that much. It was boring. Here, she at least had a mystery.

Summer sat at her booth, looking around at all the vintage décor, admiring every inch of the place.

She gazed toward the group of newcomers curiously, and before she knew it, she had walked to them. "Excuse me," Summer asked kindly, "Do you know where I am?"

"If I knew," Adam said to the girl that walked over to their booth. "Nothing that can't be solved after we eat."

While the girl stood there, he turned over to the other one. Harper. The one who'd asked how they'd all gotten there and complained about the clothes. "No idea how we got here, but you know, I'm sure there's a clothing store around here somewhere. My mom wore wool skirts and saddle shoes. If comfort is what you're looking for."

The other girl was still standing there. "Why don't you join us?" He asked.

Come to think of it, this diner did look awfully like one his parents had gone

Before long, he was emotionally far away. Thinking of his mother. Thinking about how he was almost forty, how he had two children of his own, and he still wanted his mother. He felt lost without her.

Realizing that another person was probably going to join their table, Quinn scooted her chair over. Gabriel took the initiative and dragged over another chair before turning to his balancing act. Quinn couldn't help but wonder when he was going to fall back and hit his head; it wouldn't be the first time.

The waiter came by with Adam's coffee and the milkshakes. He smiled, thinking about how there was once a day when he could have eaten a milkshake and fries for breakfast and not thought a thing of it. That was one thing he missed about being in his twenties. The freedom.

"This can't be so bad," Adam said. "In a way, it's kind of nice. You're probably all too young, but I was born in '57, so I never really got to experience this time for myself."

He took a deep breath, remembering the day Jay had been arrested.

Jay. That fit better than Dad. Suddenly, Adam was distant.

"I wish my mom could be here to see all of this," he said. "I'm sure being here would take her right back."

Harper raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to question it, but just shook her head instead. This was weird enough, people could probably be pulled from all times in the future, not just her time.

"Yeah, 'kinda nice' sums it up. I'd still kinda like to get, you know, somewhere else. Figure out what's going on. Just as soon as I finish my milkshake." At that moment, a waiter came to the table bearing her order. She grinned, "Speak of the devil and he shall appear," she recited, excitedly dipping her fries in the shake.

As she devoured her way through the food, she spoke between bites, "There's also the racism here. I mean, I didn't exactly come from the most diverse of places, but it's not like it was lawfully enforced like it was in the fifties. But, you know, there are also the clothes. I kinda like the skirt, but I'd much rather be wearing black, you know what I mean? And what is with my hair?" She brought a hand up to touch the bouncy, teased monstrosity that had been made out of her beautiful red and blue hair.

Adam said nothing. How was he supposed to respond to that? Was this what Rachel was going to be like in six to seven years? He could only be ready.

"I think your hair looks very nice. And your dress does too," he told Harper. "Tell you what. I'll take you shopping after we finish here."

Adam supposed he wanted to get out too, get back to his family. Something about here was nice though. Less messy. Maybe he could bring him here. Maybe, if they'd really traveled back in time and weren't in just some sort of dream world, his parents were out there somewhere.

Adam got his food and they all began to eat.

"You know, not everyone in the fifties was a racist," he said. Okay, so Jay was, not in an overt way but in "I'm going to preach love and equality and how horrible bigotry is but recruit mostly white women into my little harem" sort of way. But that was a story for another day.

"And we didn't all live in the Jim Crow south. And part of the reason the Civil Rights Act passed and is because of the activism of people in the fifties and sixties. Maybe the world is better now, but... I suppose I just miss being a kid."

Harper shrugged, "Yeah, sure. But my hair, look at this mess! Why would anyone want it that big anyway? Trying to make it look like you stuffed a bowling ball under your wig?" She pressed furiously down on it, trying to flatten it to no avail. She huffed and gave up, going back to sip her milkshake to cheer herself up.

"And what's supposed to be so good about being a kid anyway?" she asked, taking a break from giving herself a brain freeze, "All you do is get bossed around so you can't do what you want, then you do what you want anyway and get yelled at for it, and then you get yelled at some more for, I don't know, some stupid grades or something. There's really no reason to miss it, trust me. It's just the nostalgia getting to you."

Quinn gave a small nod in agreement. Issac and Gabriel had both barely been paying attention to the conversation - they had each given nods of their own when appropriate to give the guise of being involved, but Quinn knew neither one of them wanted to have a time period they had lived through explained to them.

She hadn't put much thought in the differences between this time and her time. But now that the conversation had shifted to childhoods, Quinn suddenly felt like she could relate to it.

"I think there's some things worth missing," Quinn admitted, staring down into her glass of water. "But I also think that it's not good to focus on the past - especially with childhoods."

Though Quinn didn't notice it, Gabriel and Issac exchanged concerned looks.

"Hey," Adam curtly. He acknowledged Quinn's comment with a nod before he realized he didn't have anything to respond to what Harper had said. They ate for a moment in silence and he realized how he must be coming across to the teenage girls.

Dressed well. Slicked back hair. Offering to pay. Telling Harper she looked nice when she was so clearly uncomfortable. They probably saw the wedding ring on his finger and thought he'd never struggled a day in his life. He remembered a line from Aladdin, the Disney movie that he'd taken Rachel to a few years back.

If only they'd look closer, they'd find out there's so much more to me...

He'd only been six years old when Jay had been put in prison for writing bad checks. Still too young to really understand that meant that he and his mother had to get a divorce, why Adam couldn't see him again even when he finally got out. Then his mother had met Ed and for once they'd had a normal life.

Jay hadn't ever been the warmest of fathers, but he was still family. Adam couldn't help but love him, dream of the day that they'd be reunited. Still, any struggle he or his mother had before that summer day in 1971 when he was fourteen. It had had started out like any other, but then he'd seen his father's face on the news and everything that came after paled in comparison to any way he thought he'd struggled before.

That fall was his freshman year of high school. No one wanted to be his friend, and everyone called him a freak. Once, at school, he got beat up so badly his mouth started bleeding he had to go to the ER. His mother became depressed and there were some days she couldn't get out of bed. And it didn't get any better the next year, or the year after that, or the year after that.

For college he wanted to go as far away as possible and ended up in Boston. He only lasted a year before he failed out, grew his hair long, and fell into hard drugs. In 1979 he'd met Mary and became committed to turn his life around for her. They took things slow, getting married in 1985, and every day since then he did his best to pick up the pieces. Then his mom had gotten sick with lung cancer, and last year she'd lost her battle. Only fifty-seven.

He tried to take a bite of his pancakes but ended up dropping his fork. "My mom died last year. She was way too young. God, I'm almost forty and I miss her."

He took a deep breath. He'd start there. Even if they had no idea who he was, they'd certainly knew of his father, and he wasn't about to start.

Gabriel faltered as he went to take a sip of his milkshake. His kind didn't really have family in the traditional way; some could, if they wanted, but he hadn't come about that way. He had just popped into existence one day, and that was that. But Adam's comment made him pause - he knew a thing or two about losing loved ones who were too young to die, even if he wasn't sure why Adam was bringing it up in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Quinn softly said. Issac gave a sympathetic nod in agreement.

Harper stopped eating. She didn't have an appetite anymore.

She gave Adam an understanding look but didn't say anything. Her gaze fell to her milkshake, and she stirred it numbly with the straw, memories moving sluggishly through her head. She told herself she didn't have any emotional attachment to them. They were old memories. She was over it. She didn't even know her parents, really, anyway. But really she was just numbing herself.

The milkshake swirled, melting slowly before her eyes. There was rosy-colored liquid gathered around the edges already, and probably some at the bottom too. She just stared at it, looking for a distraction.