My last day of school.
My last day at the academy.
My last day with my best friends.
Forever.
The graduation ceremony was scheduled after Donald Kepler’s memorial service, with both taking place in front of the school. A giant portrait of him watched students from the stage.
Several teachers shared memories they had of the old man, but none of them shed a single tear. Funerals are supposed to be sad and awkward. It was almost like people couldn’t wait for this one to end.
My friends and I sat in the last row.
‘Can’t believe they’re saying he’s dead,’ Penny said. ‘Not after what you told us.’
‘They thought it was better this way,’ I said.
‘Just more adults pretending something didn’t happen,’ Noah said, head crackling like a campfire.
‘What did it look like out there?’ Jordan asked. ‘Outside?’
‘Like I was standing on top of the universe,’ I said. ‘Because I think I was.’
‘I bet if we took the nurse out there, she could heal him,’ Noah said.
‘Maybe, but I think he’s the only one with the power to go out there. It’s not like there’s a lift with a button for the outside of the universe.’
Another teacher took the mic and started in with a boring story about the old headmaster, but she was interrupted by a loud crash on the stage.
Students stood on their chairs, making it impossible to see what was happening from the back row, but I could hear it over the speakers.
We ran down the aisle to get a better look.
A kid was writhing around on stage, frantically attacking his own head, looking exactly like I did when I was Outside – when that thing suction-cupped my head.
And then he stopped.
I got a good look at the boy’s face.
Actually, I got a good look at his mask.
It was Elvis Presley.
The boy tore off the mask and tousled his black hair. A Polaroid camera hung from his neck.
When he saw Headmaster Kepler’s giant portrait, he blew a raspberry and pouted. ‘I’m at my funeral?’ he said, his face turning from disappointment to glee. He raised a fist. ‘That means I wiiiin! Hide-and-seek champion of the universe!’
Headmaster Archer approached slowly. ‘Young man, are you … lost?’
‘Nope,’ the boy said.
‘Do you know where you are?’
The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he jumped from the stage and strolled back to the school like he owned the place.
‘That statue’s boss!’ he shouted over his shoulder as he passed Brock and Angel. ‘The one of the old skuzz is a little on the nose, though.’
Students mumbled, trying to figure out what was happening, but my friends and I already knew.
It was the kid we had been investigating all year.
The one who was there on orientation day and then disappeared. It was the kid who skipped forward through time, playing hide-and-seek with the older version of himself.
It was Elvis.
It was Fifteen.
It was the eleven-year-old Donald Kepler.
He had just dropped in from the Outside, wrestling an invisible creature on his head – the same one I wrestled with when I was Outside.
It was the villain who ended our world in an alternate timeline.
It was the Reaper.
And now he was back in our timeline.
