Don't touch me.

I don't mean that in a bitchy way. Just don't touch me. It's for your own good.

You wouldn't believe me if I told you why. Why should you? No one else does. Let's just say I'm different. You could say special, I guess. Or gifted.

Or cursed.

They all mean the same thing: I'm dangerous.

Just ask my mom - she hasn't given me a hug since I was 11. I don't blame her. In fact, I'm glad she’s cautious. I don't want to lose her too.

It's not so bad. My life is normal, mostly. I get decent grades. I'm in the choir. I run track. I have friends. I mean, not a whole lot of friends, but I have them. You can hardly expect someone who compulsively avoids touching other people to be popular. But I do okay. Or at least, I did, until Matt Irons showed up.

Matt's dad is a journalist, so they travel around a lot. A new city almost every year, he says. This year it's my city. My high school. My biology class. My lab table.

Why me?

It's not that I don't like Matt. That's the problem. I like Matt in a way that makes me want to obsessively doodle his name all over my notebook with little hearts and flowers. I always thought that was a stupid, made-up movie cliché. Then I found myself getting detention for doodling Abigail Irons all over my copy of "Pride and Prejudice" instead of listening to Mrs. Holsing's lecture on Jane Austin's use of irony and humor.

I actually wrote the words "Abby + Matt Forever."

In PEN.

Who does that?

Apparently, I do. I've managed to get through three years and a month of high school without giving a crap about boys. Not even a crush. It was so much easier that way. I ignored them. They ignored me. Everyone was happy. Well, happy might be a stretch. But at least nobody’s life was in danger.

If Matt thought I was hideous, boring or dumb this whole crush thing wouldn't be a problem. Sadly, I'm not that lucky.

"Hey Abby, can I...um... can I walk you home?" He's standing there, by my locker. Looking sooooo cute. I just can't say no.

"Sure." I think I actually just giggled. What is WRONG with me?

We start walking. Nobody's talking. Awkward. Super. Duper. Awkward.

And weird. We always have something to talk about. What the hell, Matt? Is he going to tell me he has cancer or something? Or that he's dating some other girl? Or he's an alien from Zorg?

Or maybe he's about to tell me that he's found the Los Angeles Times series from 2006 about the mysterious little girl who was linked to all of those disappearances.  Her name was withheld to protect her family's privacy. The police could never quite figure out how to blame the little girl for the fact that five people seemed to have just fallen off the face of the Earth.

We moved anyway.

My hands are shaking.

            "So Homecoming is, um, next week."

"Huh?" I'm too wrapped up in my own panic for a moment to realize what he's said. Then, "Oh, um, right, yeah."

Back to awkward silence. I think I might be holding my breath.

Matt stops and turns to me. I think he might be holding his breath too. Until he blurts out: "Abby will you please come with me to Homecoming dance? Like a date? Like a real date because I like you. I like you a lot and I really want to... I want to go to the dance with you."

“Yes.”

The word is out of mouth before I have the chance to think.

He grins at me like an idiot. A really adorable idiot who just asked me to Homecoming. Then he leans in and kisses me on the mouth. Lightly. Slowly. My first ever kiss. I feel like I’m glowing. Sparkling. Like I could float right up, through the blue sky into the blackness of the stars.

Then I realize what I'm doing and I shove him away so hard that he nearly falls.

He's still there, thank God. He's staring at me like I'm a crazy woman, but he's still there.

I run all the way home.

I try really, really hard not to let my mother hear me crying. It doesn’t work, of course. Sometimes I think my mom has actual radar. Or maybe she’s part bat and she can hear through walls.

I ignore her knocking, but she comes in anyway.

"Oh honey." She says. "What happened? Do I need to call dad?"

"No." I sit up and swipe at my eyes. "Don't worry, it’s not that. Nobody's gone. I just..." I'm sobbing again before I can get the words out. "I got asked to homecoming."

The expression on her face is a really irritating combination of confusion, relief and amusement. “Oh. I see. And this is making us weep uncontrollably because…”

"Because Matt Irons asked me to homecoming and I said yes and then he kissed me and I totally forgot everything! I just kissed him back for like five whole seconds before I remembered I’m a freak and then I ran away so now I’m sure he thinks I’m a freak and that’s good because I am. He didn’t go away this time, but I know if we go to homecoming I'll kiss him again and what if it happens again what if I what if he... what if..." I feel the hysteria flowing out of my body along with the torrent of words. Replacing itself with that heavy empty feeling of a crying jag that hasn’t actually solved any problems.

"Maybe you should tell him the truth." Mom says, quietly.

"Oh, sure. That’s a great idea. I’ll just go find him after Chem and say: 'Hey, so, thanks for the invite and the kiss and stuff but I actually have this super unfortunate tendency to occasionally make people travel to random locations in time and space when they touch me and sometimes they just don't come back.’ Then everything will be just peachy keen. Right."

"Someday you're going to have to tell someone, you know."

She’s right. I know, she’s right. But… "What if I can't?"

Mom looks at me for a long time. Then she reaches out, cautiously, and strokes the hair away from my sticky, tear streaked face.

"You'll never know if you don't try."

Two weeks, ten hours of dress-try-oning and one perfect turquoise green satin number that's just enough to make dad nervous without making him decide to lock me in my room and suddenly Matt is ringing the front doorbell in a suit.

This is it. This is when I try.

"Just remember," Mom says, handing me the tiny little beaded purse that I've borrowed from her for the occasion. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Just have fun, and don't get carried away."

"What if I --"

She cuts me off with a feather light hand on my shoulder. We both look her hand, resting on my bare skin, for a few cautious moments. Then she tweaks my nose. "Don’t you think it’s time to go rescue that poor boy from daddy?"

Holy shit. Matt Irons is downstairs. In my house. With my DAD.

The obligatory photo in front of the door takes up fifteen more minutes. Matt doesn't seem to mind. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d suspect that he was enjoying trading corny jokes with my dad. When he puts his arm around me for the picture, I don't breath until the camera flashes and he steps away.

So far, so good.

Matt’s friend Jake is driving us and two other couples to the dance in his mom’s van. It smells a little like spoiled milk and goldfish crackers and the couple in the seats in front of us are sucking face so hard I think they might swallow each other. It’s kind of gross, but Matt is sitting next to me, and every once in a while when he thinks I’m not looking he smiles at me in this way… I can’t describe it. It makes me feel fizzy inside, like someone replaced my blood with Dr. Pepper.

Jake decides to stop at the Quickie Mart on 7th and Main to buy beer for later, at his house, after the dance. He says the night clerk there doesn't ever card, no matter how young you look.

Matt leans over and whispers in my ear, "We don't have to go to Jake’s, if you don't want to. We can walk home, like always."

I smile at him. “That sounds good.” I try not to look too relieved, but I am. I've never been drunk, but it doesn't seem like a great idea. You know. Because of the whole uncontrollable time travel thing.

We park at the liquor store and walk in. The others are holding hands. I pretend that I'm cold, and wrap my hands inside my coat. It’s so unfair. I want to hold Matt's hand so badly that my fingers almost ache with it.

I'm studying the different varieties of gum when I catch something, out of the corner of my eye – a tall guy, slipping out of the employee's only door at the back of the store. There's something about him, something about the way he moves that's familiar. And there’s something wrong about him too. Something I can’t quite put my finger on, like a thread of thought caught on a splintered surface somewhere in my head that I can’t see.

"Hey Abs," Matt calls from the front counter. "Let's go, we got dancin' to do!"

I clatter up the aisle.

"Miss." The tall, skinny kid behind the cash register with a nametag that says Edward calls out to me. "Miss."

He's talking to me.

"Um, yeah?" I turn to him, still edging backwards towards the door. I don't want to be rude, but I also don't want to be the girl who got her ID checked and got everyone in trouble. Especially since I’m not going to actually drink any of it.

"Someone bought this for you." He holds out one of the plastic wrapped red roses that sit, wilting, in a display beside the counter. He winks at me and nods not too subtly at Matt, who is still holding the door, looking confused.

Matt keeps looking confused as we walk back to the car. "Um, I didn't buy that. I mean, I would have, if I thought of it... but I didn't." He says, under his breath so the others won't hear.

"You didn't? But he acted like..."

"I know. I saw." He shrugs. "Maybe I did it psychically. With my miiiinnndddd" He makes little wavy motions around his ears. Abruptly I am so happy that I feel like I could burst into a million tiny little pieces and float away.

This must be what falling in love feels like.

I carry the half dead, psychic rose with me into the dance.

Punch. Crepe Paper. Poorly chosen dresses and ties that clearly belong to someone's dad. A DJ playing songs from his own high school glory days, at least a decade ago.

It's perfect.

Matt grabs my hand and pulls me out on to the dance floor.

We dance through four fast songs, singing along and bouncing like maniacs across the floor. I could do this forever.

"It's time for a slow one! Grab that special girl, boys, this is your chance."

Stupid DJ.

Matt pulls me close. I try to remember to breath. Stay calm, Abby, it'll be fine.

And then he's kissing me and calm is not a thing my brain or my heart or my skin remembers how to do. The kiss is light, at first. Just soft lips against mine and strong hands on the small of my back. My brain is screaming. This is a terrible, terrible idea. I have to push him away. I’m going to do it. Now. On three. One... two... three!

Instead of pushing Matt away, my arms come up and wrap around his neck. Pulling him closer. My brains still shouting but I'm not listening. I’m feeling. Sparkling. Bursting. Flying. Sinking.

For a few seconds, I forget that I'm different. Special. Gifted.

Dangerous.

A few seconds is all it takes.

Between one breath and the next, Matt's gone.

Vanished. Just like all the others.

I feel the tears pouring down my face before I even realize that I'm crying. This can't be happening. How could I have let this happen? I knew what would happen, I knew it the first day that he sat down next to me in bio and asked me about the Molten Death Kiss sticker on my binder. I knew I'd do this to him, but I couldn't stop myself.

I’m a monster.

I’ve always known it. How else would I have this awful, terrible thing inside me? I’m a monster. A greedy, terrible monster who wanted to be kissed so badly I destroyed the only boy who ever might maybe have loved me a little bit.

Jake looks up, over his date's shoulder. He narrows his eyes in surprise to see me standing in the middle of the dance floor, all alone.

I turn and run. Out of the gym, through the parking lot and down the road as fast as my stupid, sparkly high heels will let me. I hardly feel the rain that starts dripping down, washing away my tears and my makeup and the fancy up-do that mom took ages putting together. I don’t slow down until I’m almost half way home. By then, my feet hurt are so numb I can barely feel the blisters that have burst and sent tiny rivulets of blood through the sequins on my stupid sparkly shoes.

When the headlights sweep past I try to ignore them, but the car stops on the shoulder in front of me.

I try to walk around it, but the driver has other ideas.

"Abby." He calls.

I don't recognize the voice so I keep going.

"Abigail Jones."

"What?" I turn back. The man sitting in the beat up station wagon behind me looks familiar, but I can't quite place him. Younger than my parents, but too old to have ever gone to school with me or anything. Handsome. I know him. I think. But I can't figure out how.

"What do you want?"

 He smiles at me. "God, I forgot how pretty you looked tonight. "

"What?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." He says. "Don't worry about anything, Abs. It'll be fine. I explained everything."

"Explained everything? What's everything? And who --"

"You'll understand soon. I promise. You'll understand a lot of things." He reaches over to his passenger seat and pulls out my half dead psychic rose. He holds it out to me.

I can't think of anything else to do, so I take it from him. He smiles. "It only gets better from here. You'll see."

Then he and the station wagon vanish. Like they'd never been there at all.

But the rose is still in my hand.

I take off the stupid sparkly heels and run the rest of the way home in my bare feet.

Matt is sitting on the porch swing.

"What.... how... where?"

"Don't you mean when?" He smiles at me and suddenly I know who the man in the station wagon was.

"That was you?"

"Apparently. He said he knew he had to come back and explain some things to me... us... because he'd, I mean we'd, done it before."

"But that’s impossible,” I whisper, brain spinning. “I mean, I can't control it. I can't send people anywhere on purpose. Much less bring them back. How did he get here? How is he going to get back?"

Matt grins. "I guess we've got fourteen years to figure that out. That's when he's from, you know. I looked good for thirty-two, didn't I? But anyway, he says by then, we've figured out how to control it. The time travel thing." The time travel thing. He just said it. Just like that was a thing that existed and he didn’t think I was crazy.

Matt snags my hand and pulls me up the steps. Out of the rain and into his arms. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I thought you wouldn't believe me. Or you'd be scared. Cuz you should be. Not everyone comes back, you know."

"Yeah, I know. He told me. But also I know I'll still be with you fourteen years from now. So I think I'm safe."

"Safe? Seriously?” I try to push him away, but Matt doesn’t let me. Idiot. “Safe??! You get dematerialized to god knows where, then you get a visit from your future self who explains to you that your homecoming date is secretly a freakish human time machine and this makes you feel safe? NO ONE is safe around me. I should just --"

He's kissing me again. This guy must have a death wish.

"I am safe. And I'm not going anywhere." He grins down at me. "I mean, you tried to get rid of me once and all it got you was this lousy flower."

I stare up at him, thunderstruck. "You... it was you, in the convenience store. You did buy the flower, after all. The clerk was right."

Suddenly, I feel the burbling brightness again. Spreading up the column of my spine.

"You traveled through time to buy my flowers."

"Yep." Matt says. "I figure that's worth a dance, right?"

We dance in the rain for a long time.

My head on his shoulder. His cheek against my hair.

Touching.