Poof!

  Keisha walked into social studies and sat down. She set her backpack on her desk, to block Mrs. Shen’s view. With her homework in her lap, she worked for two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. When Riley walked in, Keisha didn’t even look up.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE BEST ROUTE

  After social studies, Keisha ran to language arts. This usually wouldn’t require any running, because Mrs. Shen taught both classes, but today, of course, had to be different. Language arts was meeting in the library to preview the upcoming book fair, and Keisha was determined to arrive well before the other students. So off she ran. Unfortunately, as she bounded down a staircase, she came face-to-face with Vice Principal Meehan.

  “Miss James!” Meehan exclaimed. “Of all the children I’d expect to see zipping down the stairs, you would be the last one!”

  “Don’t worry,” Keisha said as she held the knob on the clock. “You never saw it.”

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  One minute back in time. Her run was reset.

  Keisha bypassed that staircase this time and took another route far away from Meehan. But this route landed her in the sights of Mr. Trundle, the gym teacher.

  “Young lady, save that energy for dodgeball tomorrow,” he said. “Slow it down, or you’re heading to consequence town.”

  There was a punishment system at Hopewell Elementary that was known as Reminder, Warning, Consequence.

  It was essentially a three-strike rule. First you get a gentle reminder, then a stern warning, and finally a consequence, which could range from being asked to sit out an activity to being sent to the vice principal’s office.

  Of course, some teachers simply skipped the reminder or warning if the infraction was serious enough. For instance, if a kid tackled a teacher, that kid would go right to the consequence phase. Not that any kid would ever tackle a teacher, of course.

  Every fourth-grader at Hopewell Elementary had received a reminder at one point or another. Most had received warnings. More than half of them had faced consequences. But not Keisha. Never Keisha. And she was going to keep her streak alive.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  Once again, she went back a minute and avoided the route with Meehan, and the route with Trundle, choosing instead to cut through the cafetorium and hustle down the back hall. This route, while ten seconds longer, was the winner, and she arrived at the library with three minutes and six seconds to spare.

  She used those precious minutes and seconds to hide in the corner with the picture books and do her science homework.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ALMOST DONE

  The rest of the day was hard work. Keisha tried and tried again until she got it all right.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  She ran and ran and ran some more.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  She received reminders and warnings from teachers, and she started over from the beginning, over and over again, trying to find as much time as humanly possible.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  Before long, she had nearly perfected each dash to class. She slid down banisters. She slipped out the front door, ran through the playground, hurdling seesaws and swings, and slipped back in the side door to avoid detection.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  As Keisha often reminded people, she was the president of the Junior Janitor Club. Which meant she had a set of the janitor’s keys. The keys certainly came in handy, because now she could duck into janitor closets as teachers walked past. Then she could sneak back into the hall and keep running . . . running . . . running!

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  She staged distractions, such as throwing handfuls of miniature bags of Skittles behind her and causing children to pile up like they were under a piñata.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  She didn’t talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  Yet she still managed to eat her lunch at a consistent pace, which helped her digestion. And to socialize at recess, which proved to her classmates that she could indeed be a likable character. And to raise her hand in each of her classes and to answer questions correctly each and every time, which helped remind everyone that there was nothing that Keisha wasn’t good at.

  Click. Turn. Click. Poof.

  By the time she was at art, her second-to-last class of the day, she had cobbled together enough free time to finish her science homework.

  The feeling was exhilarating, but exhausting. With all her time traveling, she had added an extra five hours to her day. A lot of that extra time was spent running. It was like being in a marathon. Thankfully, she could see the finish line.

  Chapter Fourteen

  OH NO, PART 2

  When Bryce arrived at art class, Keisha waved her worksheet in his face.

  “Done!” she said. “In less than twenty minutes. I even finished a class early!”

  Bryce had no clue why she was bragging. In this particular timeline, they never had the conversation about homework. Of course, Keisha remembered that other timeline and conversation, but he sure didn’t.

  Bryce was polite, however, because he was always polite. “That’s some good-looking homework you got there. When is it due?”

  “Next period,” Keisha said. “Science. I thought you knew that.”

  “I don’t know what I know,” Bryce replied with a sigh. “I did my science homework, but I don’t recognize what you’re holding up.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Maybe it’s my problem. I’ve been distracted lately. I can’t stop thinking about gummy bears.”

  “Which is . . . completely normal,” Keisha said.

  “I know, right?” Bryce said. “Like, aren’t you always wondering what gummy bears would say if they could talk? It’d probably be ‘Please don’t eat me,’ right? Could I possibly eat a gummy bear if it asked me not to? I’d like to say no, but I’m not sure I can do that. They’re just so delicious.”

  While the morality of eating talking gummy bears was an utterly fascinating thing to ponder, Keisha kept her focus on homework.

  “You said you did your homework, but you didn’t recognize this worksheet?” she asked Bryce as she showed it to him again. “How can that be?”

  Bryce dug into his backpack and pulled out his folded worksheet, which he slapped down on the table. As he unfolded it, Keisha noticed that it didn’t match hers.

  “Oh, I see the problem here,” Bryce said. “You did the homework for next week. Mrs. Shen handed them both out on the same day, but you were supposed to do the other one first.”

  Keisha froze.

  She stared straight ahead.

  This couldn’t be right.

  “Are you okay?” Bryce asked.

  She wasn’t.

  And she would get worse.

  She reached into her backpack. She removed her homework folder, which was impressive . . . for a homework folder. It had numerous pockets for particular days and weeks. As she slowly opened it, Bryce spotted something.

  “There’s the right one,” he said, pointing. “Looks like you put today’s homework in the pocket for next week. I guess you got confused.”

  That’s when Keisha stood up.

  And that’s when Keisha screamed.

  At the top of her lungs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE ROAD TO CONSEQUENCE TOWN

  Keisha’s scream echoed through the art room, and everyone turned to look at her.

  “Dagnammit!” Mr. Rao, the art teacher said. Dagnammit was a word he liked to use so he didn’t have to swear in front of the whole class. Swearing in front of a class is never a good idea.

  “Aaaaaaaah!” Keisha screamed again.

  “Miss James, may I remind you that we use our inside voices in this class?” Mr. Rao said.

  “AAAAAAAAH!”

  Mr. Rao rushed over to her, his finger wagging.

  “Miss James! Miss James! I am warning you. If you scream one more time, you’ll be—”

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

  It felt good to scream. In fact, it felt fantastic. But the consequences for screaming weren’t going to feel so good.

  Especially since while she was screaming, the clock fell out of Keisha’s hand and . . .

  Don’t worry. It didn’t break.

  But also worry. Because it landed in a jar of red paint.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

  So the clock was covered in red paint because Keisha dropped it.

  She dropped it because she was screaming.

  She was screaming because she had traveled back in time over and over again, struggling to find a handful of free minutes in which to do her homework, and then, what do you know, she did the wrong homework.

  Whoops.

  Now Mr. Rao was going to send her to Vice Principal Meehan’s office, because he didn’t care about red paint. Or homework. Or time travel. He cared only about screaming.

  There had been a reminder and a warning. Now it was time for the consequence. In other words, things were not going well for Keisha. But what, ultimately, was to blame for all this?

  Simple. A butterfly.

  This is not a joke. It all could be blamed on a butterfly. And it proves what is commonly called “the butterfly effect.”

  The butterfly effect is basically the following idea: A butterfly flapping its wings in China can cause a hurricane in Florida.

  Seriously.

  But perhaps it’s best to clarify a few things:

  1. No one is saying that a particular butterfly (or any butterfly, for that matter) has caused a hurricane. So please don’t go yelling at random butterflies. Life is tough enough for them already.

  Think about it.

  They begin their lives waddling around as caterpillars, and then they suddenly have the urge to build this tiny little shell around themselves called a chrysalis. Which is weird, right? Then, when they build the chrysalis, they have to stay locked inside it for days. Or even weeks! Without friends, family, or even a Wi-Fi signal. And sure, when they finally break out of the chrysalis, they emerge as beautiful butterflies. But then they have to fly everywhere. Flying is tiring.

  Monarch butterflies will confirm that fact. A lot of them fly from Canada all the way to Mexico. Which is thousands of miles! And what do you think they do when they get there? Laze around on the beach, sipping lemonade?

  Well, yes, sort of, but after a few months of vacation, they have to turn right back around and fly thousands of miles home. And when they get home, do they hug their families, have a pizza party, and get on with their lives?

  Well, no, not even sort of.

  They die.

  So cut butterflies some slack.

  2. Also, we’re not saying that a butterfly can flap its wings so hard that a hurricane is created by nothing but the flapping. Because that would be one strong and terrifying butterfly.

  If you’re good at physics and biology and imagining gigantic monstrous butterflies, then maybe you can figure out how big a butterfly would have to be to cause a hurricane with wing flaps.

  As big as a football stadium? That’s still probably too small, right?

  As big as Camden, New Jersey? (If you don’t know how big Camden, New Jersey, is, then just imagine it being as big as Pawtucket, Rhode Island. And everyone can imagine a Pawtucket-size butterfly, right?)

  Or would it have to be even bigger? As big as Tuvalu? As big as San Marino? As big as Liechtenstein? Can you imagine? A butterfly as big as Liechtenstein? Every kid has nightmares about butterflies as big as Liechtenstein!

  It ultimately doesn’t matter, because there are no Liechtensteinian nightmare butterflies flapping around the globe and affecting our weather patterns.

  Thank heavens.

  3. But . . . and this is a big but . . . the idea that a butterfly can cause a hurricane cannot be ruled out. Because the idea is that one small action can lead to bigger actions, which can lead to even bigger actions, which can lead to even bigger actions, and on and on and on, in a chain reaction, until something that seems meaningless ends up resulting in something that is truly monumental.

  Of course, it’s purely theoretical that a butterfly flapping its wings could set off a chain of events that would eventually cause a hurricane. But in Keisha’s case, it was actually proven that a butterfly was to blame.

  Seriously.

  Chapter Seventeen

  KEISHA’S BUTTERFLY

  To understand a butterfly’s role in Keisha’s fate, we have to go back in time.

  Not far. Only one day.

  It was after school and Keisha was in her room, sitting at her desk, doing her homework. Her homework folder was open in front of her. She had finished her math and social studies homework. The only homework left was science. When all of a sudden—

  Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

  There was a butterfly.

  An orange-and-black butterfly was bumping into her window, trying to find its way outside. So Keisha stood up, and as she walked to the window, her elbow bumped against her desk fan. The bump turned the fan, which caused it to blow all the papers out of her homework folder.

  Scrambling around her room, Keisha gathered up the papers and jammed them back in the folder. In the process, she put this week’s homework in the following week’s slot. And vice versa.

  That was mistake number one.

  Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

  The butterfly was still trying to escape. So when all the homework was gathered up and the fan was back in its original position, Keisha returned to the window. She opened it, the butterfly flew out, and that’s when she saw—

  Oh. My. Goodness.

  A triple rainbow!

  No one in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to photograph a single rainbow. So a person would have to be dead to pass up the opportunity to photograph a rare and wondrous triple rainbow.

  Obviously, Keisha was bursting with life. She flew downstairs, hollering, “Gimme a phone! Triple rainbow! Triple rainbow!”

  This was mistake number two.

  Because as she flew downstairs, grabbed her dad’s phone, and went outside, Keisha’s little brother, Kevin, slipped into her room.

  Yes, Kevin was passing up the opportunity to photograph a triple rainbow. And no, he wasn’t dead. So let’s update that previous statement.

  You’d have to be dead—or a sneaky little brother who really liked candy—to pass up the opportunity to photograph a triple rainbow. Because that’s what was going on here. Kevin was trying to steal candy from his sister.

  Kevin opened her desk drawers and moved all her papers in search of her stash of miniature bags of Skittles. He made quite a mess, tossing things here and there. Little did he know, the Skittles were hidden away in her backpack.

  When he heard the back door close and his sister entering the house, he panicked. He started stuffing objects back into drawers and stacking papers on her desk as neatly as he could. As for Keisha’s homework folder, he dropped it into a slot above her desk that was labeled FINISHED.

  When he heard Keisha bounding up the stairs, he slipped out as sneakily as he had slipped in. That’s when she spotted him in the hall.

  “You’re missing the triple rainbow,” she said.

  “No, I’m missing the delicious rainbow of Skittles in my mouth, that’s what I’m missing,” Kevin grumbled under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” Keisha said. “I didn’t hear that.”

  Kevin flashed her a thumbs-up and replied, “Nothing, big sister. I was only talking about how lovely and brilliant you are.”

  If sarcasm was an art, then Kevin was one of Hopewell Elementary’s finest artists. Keisha knew this well, and she knew not to encourage him. So she rolled her eyes and pushed past him and returned to her room.

  What was I doing? she thought as she headed to her desk. Homework, right?

  But when she saw that her homework folder was in the slot labeled FINISHED, she assumed she was finished. Because why else would it be there?

  This was mistake number three.

  “Dinner!” her father called from downstairs.

  It was taco night, which was the best dinner night of the week. So Keisha flew back downstairs and didn’t think about her science homework until Bryce mentioned it the next day.

  As you can see, Keisha made three mistakes that led her to this point, but really it was a butterfly to blame.

  Well, also a triple rainbow.

  And a sneaky little brother who liked Skittles.

  Chapter Eighteen

  CONSEQUENCE TOWN

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

  Remember, before we got distracted by all that butterfly stuff, Keisha was screaming. The reason she was screaming was because she didn’t have her clock, and so she couldn’t go back in time. Because also remember, the clock was in a jar of red paint.

  “Good gravy, Miss James,” Mr. Rao said. “This is ridiculous. You are disrupting the class. Please take a breath.”

  She did. She took three long, deep breaths. Then she looked around. Everyone was staring at her. She needed to explain herself.

 

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