And so it begins: Timing is Everything

a free preview of my serialized YA novel (Prologue & 1st Chapter: In Which Mae Searches for a Hat and Gets More Than She Bargained For)

Timing is Everything is a serialized YA novel published weekly for paid subscribers. For more information and and a table of contents, click here. For a complete index of TIE posts with newest chapter first, click here.

And without further adieu, here’s your free preview…!

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Prologue

Fall, 2015

A radio commercial pierced the quiet of the morning car ride, announcing an upcoming music festival, and my mother burst out laughing. The DJ was listing off local bands that were popular when she was in high school and yet were somehow still touring.

“What is this,” she said, “1997?”

My mom always had the radio in her car set to the stations that had been around since she was growing up, although it never seemed like she was paying attention to the music. But today she was. An old song from Blink-182 followed up the commercial and she shook her head a little and smiled as she pulled up to a red light. I usually drove myself to school, but on late start days when the high school started at the same time as the sister elementary school, we had this tradition of going together. 

“Man, this takes me back,” she said, mostly to herself. “Making mixtapes, sharing headphones, or lunch time when ASB put the speakers out in the quad…”

She trailed off and I tried not to roll my eyes too hard. My mom was only eighteen years older than me, and yet it was still nearly impossible for me to imagine her hanging out with her friends at school, probably because she rarely talked about her life before I was born. To me, she was a mom and a first-grade teacher in perpetuity.

I mindlessly traced a heart with my finger on the inside of the foggy passenger window. “It’s just hard for me to picture you in high school, listening to music, without a care in the world other than when Weezer was going on tour again.”

“They were on hiatus when I was in high school.” 

I arched my eyebrows up at her.

“Look, Mae, I know you think I’m an old lady”— which got a laughing eye roll out of me since we both knew how young she was to have a senior in high school— “but there’s a lot you don’t know about my growing up days.”

The light turned green and I let out a sigh. She wasn’t being unkind, but she just never was very forthcoming about the past, despite all my curiosity.

“Well, then you should tell me. It’s sort of my history too, you know.”

I knew it was a moot point, but it was worth asking.

“Of course I know. It’s just… so much of it is hard to rehash. It’s hard to articulate it all. It wasn’t all unicorns and rainbows.” 

I sighed again, unable to control the angsty impulse. This was where the conversation always went… and essentially where it always ended. 

She reached her hand over and placed it on my arm as she eased into the school parking lot.

“I promise I will tell you… everything… when the time is right.”

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Chapter One: 

In Which Mae Searches for a Hat and Gets More Than She Bargained For

February 2016

I met Javi the same day that everything I knew about the constraints of time in the world changed. Now, I’m not sure which of those things made a bigger impact in my life. At the time, my mind was all a blur. That’s probably why, oblivious to what was going on around me in Spanish class, I took the seat next to him in the back, instead of one up front where I usually sit.

I couldn’t focus on anything but the strange… discovery? experience? revelation?… I’d had that morning before school, wondering, to be honest, if I’d fallen back asleep up in the attic and imagined the whole thing. Did I hit my head up there? The rest of the morning had passed so normally, but…

 My mind was struggling to focus, but I snapped to attention when I saw Cynthia Lewis clad in a maroon velvet beret— never one to miss a themed Spirit day— sitting up in the front row. Her posture was as perfect as the stack of books on her desk. 

I was going to have to pull it together, to concentrate on reality, if I was going to have a chance at beating Cynthia for the number one spot. It was mine for now, but we were in a close race. And AP Spanish was supposed to be my chance at waiving my foreign language requirement in college to make room for other— more relevant— classes. 

I zeroed in on Señora Brown in time to register that I had just been assigned a new conversation partner. Somehow, I had forgotten that today was the day we’d be assigned to work with the person next to us for the rest of the school year. I had meant to sit by Ava Goughton, a friend from the golf team, but here I was in the back corner of the room. Ava, wearing our golf team’s cap over her curly hair, caught my eye from across the classroom and we both shrugged with a look of oops! She must have forgotten too.

 To my right, my new class partner held his hand out for a shake, a crooked smile on his face. He wore no hat (clearly not a Spirt day kind of guy), and had dark-rimmed glasses. His black wavy hair was long and wild on top and cut short on the sides. 

“Hola,” he said. “Soy Javi.”

I stuck my hand out to shake his.

“Hi, er, hola.” We were still shaking hands. “Yo soy Mae.”

He nodded —still smiling— like he already knew my name, and eventually, I remembered to take my hand back. 

“Mucho gusto, Mae.” 

I smiled quickly but didn’t have time to respond as Señora Brown began introducing our new vocab and lit assignment. I had seen Javi around of course, but we didn’t run in the same circles. He transferred to our school a few years ago, so we didn’t grow up together like most people at our small school. I glanced over at him while Señora Brown’s back was turned to write on the board. His eyes had a laughter about them as he motioned down to his notebook, where he’d written a message.

Did you sit by me because I’m Mexican?

My eyes widened, and then I wrote a note back on my notebook and held it to show him.

NO. I totally forgot we were getting new conversation partners today.

Sure. He kept writing. You just wanted an easy A. 

He was silently laughing while I pleaded my innocence with my face when Señora Brown cleared her throat. My head jerked back towards the board, as she spoke to me in Spanish.

“You’ll have plenty of time to get to know your partner this trimester, Señorita Walker.”

The class responded with a low, collective ooohhhh, but they were immediately shushed as she began the lessons, leaving me blushing hard. I refused to look over, but I could just tell that Javi was still laughing inside. 

When class ended, we parted ways with a quick saludo, and that was that. I hoped he was actually joking about that whole choosing a partner thing, but honestly I had bigger fish to fry than what a random guy thought about me. 

It was morning break and I felt like I was walking around in a haze, with my mind bursting with confusion about what happened at home before school, and no one to talk to about it. My best friend Callie was spending a semester abroad, because her dad was some kind of mysterious diplomat, and she was the only one who I would trust with such a strange story. I had ten free minutes so I headed directly to the library, pulled out my laptop, and sent her a quick email.

#

To: Callie Williamson

From: Mae Walker

Subj: I can’t even

Callie,

I know you just left but I miss you so much! I only have a minute and there’s a question nagging my mind (along with a crazy story which, I will have to wait till later to tell you). Promise you’ll answer me in a most serious and scientific way: 

Do you believe in time travel? 

Luv ya,

Me

#

I hit send, and then sat at the computer with head in my hands while I replayed the morning in my mind over and over. But it still didn’t make any sense. 

My mom had gone out extra early and brought back coffee and pastries to enjoy before school. This should have been a sign that she was up to something.

I came downstairs— dressed for school, but my wet hair still wrapped up in a towel turban— and sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. She handed me a cup and a paper bag with a warmed croissant in it. 

“Cheers!” she said. “Ready for a new semester?” 

I nodded, not quite awake yet and not at all prepared for what she said next.

“So, um”— my mom was not normally ever at a loss for words— “I, uh, wanted to let you know that I’m seeing someone.”

I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at her with a smile.

“That is, I met someone special.” 

I waited a beat, and then she continued, blushing.

“I mean I didn’t just meet him per se. But I only recently began to think of him in that way.”

Which of course, could only mean one person.

“You’re dating Dustin?” 

“Well, yes.” She was clearly nervous about telling me, which made no sense to me at all. My mom had been friends with Dustin Crawford since high school; he was one of her and my dad’s best friends, and always there for Mom after Dad had died, and pretty much ever since.

“Great,” I said, leaving the croissant and taking the coffee with me to go back upstairs. “It’s about time!” 

I heard a big sigh of relief back in the kitchen. 

“So you’re fine with it?” she called up the stairs.

“Of course,” I yelled back down. “But I gotta get ready. Can I grab that red cowboy hat up in the attic for spirit day?”

“Sure,” she called up to me. “We’ll talk more later, okay? Dustin’s coming for dinner.”

“Sounds good!”

The attic was actually a room at the top of a skinny staircase— essentially, a tiny third floor. There was a door at the top of the stairs and the unfinished room was basically a big storage closet. When I was little I always dreamed of making it into my room, like a secret tower looking out over the cul de sac, but my mom didn’t have those kind of skills, and my dad, well, he died when I was two. Dustin or my grandpa totally would have finished it for me, but my mom wasn’t big on asking for help back then. 

I rifled through a few boxes, looking for the hat I wanted. Our school liked to celebrate the first day of each semester with a silly spirit day. Today was Hat Day, and lots of the teachers gave a few extra credit points for participation, which meant I was going to find the best hat in the house. I spotted it on a shelf and almost knocked something else down as I grabbed the hat.

Reaching back up, I realized it was my mom’s old personal cassette tape player. Pulling it down, I read the name, Walkman printed on it, and ran my finger over an old sparkly Chargers sticker that my dad must have given her that was covering an embossed brand logo. I was immediately seized by a surprisingly strong intrigue about this ancient portable tape player. I set the cowboy hat down on a lower shelf and put the headphones on my ears. There was a tape in it still, a homemade mix labeled on the sticker stripe in Sharpie: J + T 4ever. 

Cute, I thought, doubting that there would be batteries in it but attempting the power button anyway. I didn’t know much about my dad, but I knew he and my mom both loved music, a trait they passed on to me. 

I couldn’t believe it. The thing actually turned on, even after being tucked away in the attic that long. 

But that wasn’t the weirdest part. Not by a long stretch. 

#

The music started with a fast drum beat and I closed my eyes, listening in to the soundtrack of my parents’ past. It was punk, but melodic. It took a few seconds, but then I recognized the voice from the radio. 

That’s definitely Blink-182, I thought. 

I gripped the Walkman harder as I was hit with a sudden queasy feeling in my stomach.

Maybe I shouldn’t have drank all that coffee without finishing the croissant.

And then— the queasiness passed as quickly as it came, but I felt dizzy, like the room was spinning. I let my eyes flutter open and the lighting around me changed, getting brighter. The song rolled into the chorus and the lead singer was singing about wanting to be her only one. 

I looked down at at the tape player in my hands for a split second, and then looking up, I no longer saw the walls of the attic. Nope, I was definitely outside. And yet, under my feet, I still saw the worn wood floor of the attic. 

It was like I was in a bubble of sorts, the sound around me muffled by the music in my headphones. 

There was literally no logical explanation for what had just happened, but somehow, I’d been transported out of my attic.

I looked around, and I was in a little parking lot at the top of a cliff looking down to the beach. It was a familiar place but something about it definitely felt different. The music played on, and I realized it was coming from the car next to me, in addition to my own headphones. It was a well-loved SUV— an older model— backed into the spot, with the back window up and tailgate down. 

And sitting on the back tailgate, totally engrossed in each other and unaware that I was observing, were my young parents. I stumbled back, and was relieved to bump up against the attic wall. I was somehow still in the attic, but also… not? 

There was my mom, Jess, probably seventeen or so, her knees pulled in to her chest, her hair (long and dirty blonde, like mine) blowing back in the ocean breeze. She looked so much like herself, and yet, so different. 

And there was Ty, as handsome as in the photos on our hutch, with the golden brown eyes he gave to me, and his SHS Football hat on, and his arm around her waist. It wasn’t as jarring to see him young, because— my heart pinched at the realization— he’d barely made it a few years beyond this point in his life. 

Ty pointed to the front of the car where the music was playing from. 

“So, I, uh, I made you this mixtape,” he said. The sound was muffled, but somehow still clear enough to understand. “Listen, here’s the part right here.”

He paused, looking bashful as Mark Hoppus ended the song with a question that seemed to be what my dad was asking my mom… if she would be his new girlfriend.

This is completely impossible, I thought, and simultaneously dropped the tape player, which jerked the headphones off my head. The world spun, the light changed. A moment of queasiness that was gone before I could really even register it.  

And then I was back in the attic. Like fully in the attic again. The tape player had fallen into a box of linens near my feet, and I dug it out and stared at it again, incredulous. 

What. The. Heck.

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Chapter 2 comes out next week, make sure you subscribe or upgrade to paid if you’d like to keep reading (If you already subscribe and you can’t figure out how to upgrade to paid, here’s how to do it).