Stuck in the 70's by Debra Garfinkle Read Free Book Online

flowery, baby blue flannel nightgown up against my body. “This is perfect for you.”
    “Me?”
    “Yes, dear. You. It’s sweet.”
    Me, Shay Saunders, sweetheart who hangs out with honor students and wears flannel nightgowns. It’s tempting.
    After Mrs. Gray buys me a lot of “sweet” things, our arms are heavy with bags as we walk to the station wagon together. “Thank you,” I tell her, my voice a little shaky. My mom h asn’t taken me shopping in years. She keeps me in credit cards, but it’s not the same. “ I’ll try to pay you back, Mrs. Gray.” She’s been so kind, I even mean it.
    “It’s the least I can do. Now, let me drive you home.”
    Gawd! I h adn’t thought of that.
    “Are you okay, dear? Do you know how to get to your house—er, apartment, from here?”
    Stall , I tell myself. “That’s nice of you to offer, Mrs. Gray, but I left some of my things at your house.”
    “ I’ll swing by so you can run in and get your things, and then I ’ll take you home. Where do you live? Do you need anything else? Food?”
    She is so damn nice, I almost c an’t lie to her. Almost. “I live in Reseda. I d on’t need anything, thanks.” Except a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food, a place to sleep, and a time machine.
     
    As soon as we get to the house, I race upstairs and fling open Tyler’s bedroom door.
    He jumps a little. He’s at his desk chair with his back to me, craning his neck my way. “You caught me,” he says.
    Holy crap. I know what teenage boys do in their rooms. “I’m so sorry. It’s perfectly normal. I should have knocked.”
    “Not that normal, actually. There are only four other people in my school with computers.”
    “Huh?”
    “You caught me showing nerd tendencies.” He points to his cluttered desk. “I like to take apart my computer, see if I can make it run more efficiently.”
    “Ohh. I caught you playing with computer parts.”
    His giant monstrosity of a computer barely resembles my laptop. It’s about the size of the fridge in my bedroom at home, and looks like a desktop computer got messed up on steroids. The thing is turned backward. Bright wires surround clunky metal. Some of the parts lie scattered on Tyler’s desk next to a diagram neatly h and-d rawn in various pencil colors.
    I c an’t believe I’m stuck with this guy. Although he probably has a rich future in Silicon Valley. “Your mom wants to drive me home,” I say. “And unless her station wagon doubles as a time machine, I d on’t know what to tell her.”
    “Hmm.” He looks at the Einstein poster over his bed. “What would Albert do?”
    “I have no clue, but your mother’s waiting downstairs for me.”
    “Aha! I’ll pretend to take you to Reseda, and then you can sneak back in the house later. Let’s go talk to my mom.”
    When Tyler offers to drive me home, Mrs. Gray lifts her eyebrows half an inch, but she says okay.
     
     
    I can’t sleep, and it’s not just because Shay is lying in my bed again. I’m trying to process the fact that she’s actually from the future. The pope proved it. I have no idea how Shay actually got to 1978 from 2006, and why she ended up here. Was it something I did on the computer? The pipes under our bathtub? Is Shay the answer to my prayers?
    Ridiculous. There has to be science involved.
    I think.
    Einstein said science without religion is lame, and religion without science is blind. I have no idea what that means. And I have no idea what Shay is doing here.
    I’ll probably lie awake half the night trying to figure things out.
     
     
     
    I’ve been lying awake half the night trying to figure things out.
    “ Can’t sleep?” Tyler says at the same time I say, “I c an’t sleep.” It’s like we have a karmic connection.
    “Want to go outside?” I ask him.
    “Now? In the middle of the night?”
    “Why not? It could be fun.”
    “Fun. That’s my goal this year.” He says it like he’s talking about getting A’s or learning Latin.