“Sheed!”
It couldn’t be true. Sheed was hiding, or maybe stuck, or maybe tossed in the neighbor’s pool. Otto sprinted over and climbed the plastic steps. The water remained time-frozen, undisturbed. “Sheed!”
TimeStar joined in, checking the other yard beneath the trampoline. “Sheed!”
The two of them yelled the missing boy’s name over and over, their voices doubling in the strange harmony that made it impossible to tell them apart. Petey helped search, even going as far as to check the mutant mole hole in his mother’s flower garden. Otto and TimeStar became frantic, their voices and phrases matching each other in ways that drew Petey’s attention. He stared at them, squinting, their words blending as precisely as a well-rehearsed choir.
“Sheed . . .”
“. . . where . . .”
“. . . are . . .”
“. . . you?”
Missus Thunkle broke the news none of them wanted to hear. “I’m sorry, boys. If he was here, he would’ve answered by now.”
Of course she was right. Of course Sheed wasn’t beneath a flowerpot, or in the storm gutters.
A horrible vision of his lanky cousin frozen in time terrorized Otto. Sheed’s tiny ’fro fixed in a not-quite-perfect halo forever.
Otto’s lip trembled, his eyes burned. He turned away from TimeStar and Petey, not wanting them to see him cry. As the tears brimmed, TimeStar said, “No! No! Not here. I’m not supposed to lose him here.”
Otto turned to TimeStar again. “Huh?”
The time traveler pounded his fist on one of the remaining antigravity crates, seemingly forgetting Otto, Petey, and Missus Thunkle were even around.
“It doesn’t happen like this. I can’t have messed it up this bad,” he mumbled.
Otto approached the man cautiously, worried about the panic he was in. “You’re going to hurt your hand if you keep banging on the box like that.”
TimeStar’s eyes widened, as if surprised he wasn’t alone. “I—I’m sorry. It’s just, this day, it wasn’t supposed to—”
Awkward and embarrassed, TimeStar slapped his right hand on the right side of his neck, just behind his ear. At the same moment, Otto did the exact same thing.
Petey said, “Oh my goodness!”
“What’s wrong?” Otto and TimeStar said together, harmonizing once more.
Petey leapt up and down in place, pointing between them. “Oh, oh, oh!”
Otto couldn’t understand what had Petey so riled up. Were they under attack again? He scanned the area for incoming Clock Watchers. TimeStar plucked his goggles from his face, revealing familiar brown eyes. His chest heaved, and his shoulders slumped, as if expecting something unpleasant.
Petey, swinging his pointer finger between them, gathered his words. “You’re him. He’s you.”
Otto still didn’t get it.
Petey said, “You’re the same person! TimeStar is you, Otto. Grown up. From the future.”
For once, there was not a bit of doubt in Petey’s voice.