This is the first (I lie, it's like the fifth) draft of my 1,000-word short story. I wish I was more excited about it. Instead, every draft brings more ideas about what this is maybe about and where it could go... I wish I had a clearer idea. No doubt reading it to the class will be extremely helpful, since other people usually take what I have and show me a direction that I never would have come up with on my own.

Squeezed into a friend’s civic, Mark and I share the back seat while Angina drives and Lewis sings with the blasting stereo. We are heady with life and impending summer. Colleges have been applied to and answers have been mailed. This is one of those rare times when the decisions have been made and all that’s left is to let them unfold. It’s a strange way to live. Mark pulls a note out of his pocket.

“Someone gave me this at the grad party. But I’d rather give it to you.” I unfold the page and have time to reel at the three words written there: ‘I love you’. I’m shocked. Just glancing up to meet his wide green eyes, Angina screams and my head snaps to the window and the too-close headlights.

It’s strange what I think of.

I am six and Mark just turned seven. Walking home from the bus stop he asks to kiss me. He leans in and I close my eyes. When we pull away I wipe the excess saliva with the collar of my shirt. Mark makes a face and says that kissing is gross. None of this ever happened, but my memory continues to play like a movie as he walks me to my door. Somehow, I know that afterwards we are best friends.

But that’s not how it went. That first kiss was supposed to be magical. So when Mark’s slobbery lips pushed up against my own I hurled myself back with such force that I fell over, a minute and a half before the disgusting smooch. A week later, one of the boys in my class dared me to kiss him. His lips were warm and smooth - an instant of softness I had not expected. Within ten minutes the entire class knew, and for days afterwards I was suspected of cooties.

I’m twelve, cursing unforgivably in front of my parents after a fall. My mother points me to my room and I am left home while my parents and brother bike around the neighborhood. I watch in fascination as my memory continues the lie. Will brings back a rock to show me how much fun I missed. I keep it on my shelf until I move away to college.

Mom’s look of shock was already transforming into disapproval when I made the decision. Time is a fleeting, slippery thing. So, in the instant I recognized punishment was coming, I threw myself backwards and grabbed fistfuls of the recent past. Gummy in texture, the threads of just milliseconds ago are thick chunky ropes of wool. Past that, seconds feel like rumpled bed sheets with plenty of folds to grab and pull towards you. A minute is a silken scarf and anything past that becomes as impossible as rock-climbing up an endless wall of polished marble.

I spilled papers and books everywhere, too late to stop my fall for a second time. Holding my mouth firmly shut, I was not grounded and went along on our family bike ride. While I was calling to my brother to watch me jump a curb he didn’t see where he was going. It was his wheel that slipped over the edge. He had a concussion and a broken arm. There was never any rock on my shelf.

On the Friday before I turn fourteen, Melissa asks me whether she should confront Allen about the upcoming spring dance. He’s shy, so I tell her she should ask him to the dance, rather than wait for an invitation that might never come. Melissa gathers her courage and heads towards Allen’s seat. I can’t see her face, but I can see Allen shaking his head and the gradual slump of Melissa’s shoulders. He was waiting to ask Janet, she told me. To cheer her up we go to the mall and try on all the beautiful dresses we can find.

In truth, I haven’t spoken to Melissa since the eighth grade. I saw Allen shaking his head and fled back as far as I could go. I had only managed to erase two minutes of time, but I didn’t mess it up that time around. I grabbed her hand when she rose from the table and changed my mind. If he wanted her, I had said, he should ask her. On Tuesday, Janet asked Allen to the dance. He agreed and Melissa’s and my friendship was never the same.

Yesterday I handed Mark a note. It was simple – only three words I couldn’t admit. He looked shocked. But he smiled, and then grinned, and finally grabbed my hands and pulled me close.

This one must be a dream. I’m good at reading faces, and I recognized his shock that afternoon. So, what I did was pull and pull until I ran out of finger holds in the fabric. When I opened my eyes I was just reaching Mark. I pocketed my slip of paper and the words written there.

Earlier today, Mark climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep and I turned the ignition. Immediately my low-gas light flicked on. We were late to the ceremony, but stayed at the after party when Angina left with Lewis before her curfew.

I want to stay in this fake memory but, unbidden, the truth replaces this dream and we stand outside the Jeep again, graduation robes flapping. “Angina asked if we want to ride with her and Lewis. Let’s just car-pool.” I tell Mark.

“Environmentally friendly. I like that about you.” He teased. “It’s not laziness at all.” Moments later Angina pulled up in front of the house. I had thought about how great my time traveling was and all the things it had saved me from.

Now there is no time to wonder if every decision I ever second-made was the wrong one. There’s not even enough time, to make time. It’s slipping away and we are hit by the present before I can grasp it.