For the weeks following the Oklahoma City bombing I religiously monitored the news coverage. I kept looking for any signs that my warning phone calls – which ultimately failed - were being investigated. While there were rumors that warnings had been given to evacuate, it was eventually decided that it was due to accomplices that got cold feet or something like that. I assumed that they didn’t want to announce that the police disregarded the warning I gave them. I would occasionally peek at the payphone that I used, to see if there were any mysterious cars parked nearby to observe, but I never saw anything.

  While I was confident that there would be no way they could possibly connect a teenage girl in Minnesota with anything related to the Oklahoma City bombing, I still felt withdrawn. While I was determined to do better next time, I was wracked with uncertainty about any sort of good I could do with my foreknowledge of the next thirty years. I began to question whether I could have any positive effect on the world at all.

  It was my fourteenth birthday in mid-May, but I didn’t request anything special. A cake with my family and a little get-together with some of my friends was all I had the energy for. My parents sympathized, estimating it had to do with middle school graduation that was coming up, but I knew better. I felt powerless and had more on my mind than silly final exams.

  A few days after my birthday, I received a letter in the mail from my pen pal Catherine. Of course, in my previous life as Matthew she had been his future wife but in this timeline she was simply a friend I corresponded with regularly. I knew from Matthew’s memories that Catherine had a rough time at this age, and being in contact with her was one of the few things I could do to maintain any sort of connection with that life.

  Dear Maya,

  Happy Birthday! I hope you’re doing well. I finally was able to get my parents to buy me a new bike, and I have been riding it everywhere! I listened to the new Pumpkins album like you said, and it is amazing! It blew my mind.

  School is starting to ramp up here, and I can’t believe middle school is almost over. I know I’m ready for high school, because my current classmates are bullies, as you know. It will be better in 9th grade next year once I can get away from them.

  I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re my friend. It's always good to know that I have a friend up in Minnesota who has such good taste in music! I don’t know where I’d be without your letters every week, and I wanted to say how happy I am to have someone to confide in. My classmates may suck, but at least you’re cool!

  Talk to you soon!

  Catherine

  It was a letter like the dozens that we had sent each other before. I knew from Matthew’s memories that at some point when she was thirteen Catherine had attempted suicide due to personal problems and school. She was unsuccessful of course, but when I found myself in the past I thought I would try and give Catherine some semblance of stability through this difficult time. And it worked! Catherine had never confided any trauma for the last year or so we corresponded, and she had a relatively happy year!

  I stared at the simple letter with the cartoon balloons, dumbstruck. I did affect things. Maybe not much, but I was able to be there for Catherine! It would be possible going forward, I just had to remember to keep pushing forward. I stuck the letter in the mirror of my vanity, smiling to myself as I considered a horrific past from occurring. One girl was saved because of me.

  It wasn’t just because of me; it was because of me directly. I didn’t ask for help because I did the work myself. It was well within my power to write a simple letter every week, and that was key. My goal going forward had to be to acquire more power so that I could act directly. What’s more, I had to protect my identity. If I managed to influence events to a larger scale, I would need to be hidden. It would be the cornerstone of my plans going forward. Acquire resources. Act Directly. Protect myself. Pretty intense for a simple fourteen-year-old cheerleader.

  I walked a bit lighter after coming to this realization, and the last few weeks of middle school were melancholy mixed with excitement. One by one our finals were completed, and all of the eighth graders gradually felt the relief of having the summer ahead of them. I made it a point to revel in my last few classes at Hoover Middle School and enjoy myself with my friends. It was a relief that I made it through three years of middle school for the second time, but I was definitely ready for high school.

  School finished in the first week of June. We didn’t have a graduation ceremony or anything like that – they didn’t usually have silly things like in the 90s – but there was a pool party hosted by one of the girls on the cheerleading squad that we were all invited to. I drove with Erin and her mom to the party, and the backyard was exactly as you’d expect it to be: over a dozen girls running around to the sounds of TLC along with copious amounts of splashing. Erin and I were allowed to use one of the bedrooms in the house to change into our swimsuits.

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  I steeled myself for my choice in swimwear for the day. I had stopped doing the catalog shoots months ago; it was getting too cutthroat and professional, and unlike the other child models I had no aspirations beyond money for sacrificing a Saturday per month. I did, however, miss all of huge discounts on clothes I was given from an upscale store like Dayton’s. I was sure I could convince Aunt Marie to keep giving me a discount. One of the recent bits of clothing I bought was a white bikini. It wasn’t risque or anything, but this was the first time I would wear a two piece in public and I was nervous. As we stripped down to change Erin assured me it wasn’t a big deal as she changed into a two piece of her own.

  I was going to wrap a towel around myself, but Erin quickly admonished me and took me by the hand to the backyard. I felt sort of exposed, despite the top having ample coverage for my chest, but we joined the rest of the girls in the back as the sound of their genuine laughter and carrying on filled my ears. We were greeted by our friends, and together made the rounds. I wasn’t the only girl in a bikini by far, and it eased my nerves a bit. I still kept unconsciously covering my butt.

  The giggling and the music was infectious, and it wasn’t long before the group was bouncing and jumping to the boombox, myself included. At a certain point, Danielle cannon-balled into the pool, splashing us and making us shriek. This led to a domino of girls jumping into the water, still gyrating to the music. I was lost in the moment, splashing my friends and simply enjoying myself.

  Sometime later I found myself stretched out on a pool chair, with a content smile on my face. Some of the girls were still playing in the water, some were in little groups chatting or looking through magazines, and others were simply soaking the sun like I was. The sizzle and the scent of grilling hot dogs permeated everything. It occurred to me that Matthew would have killed to be at a pool party when he was fourteen, especially if it meant being surrounded by girls. Ironic that I was here because I was a girl. I chuckled at the thought.

  Another thought came to me as I sat and slathered suntan lotion on my bare legs. I needed this; to just be a normal teenage girl with friends and fun. I had to have something to balance the plans and the schemes, or even the admittedly grim resolve of changing future tragedies. I thought that it might be potent camouflage; who would expect a pretty cheerleader to be a Machiavellian investor? It would be unimaginable that a simple girl like me would be sitting on nearly thirty grand in stocks. Not only would my life as Maya be good cover, it would balance me out. I could genuinely enjoy my second life.

  I glanced over to see Erin and Danielle giggling and beckoning me over to the other side of the deck by the grill. I grinned and stood up to join them. My schemes could wait a bit while I hung out with my friends.

  Summer passed swiftly, and it was a barrage of parties, sleepovers, and barbecues. There were weekly cheerleading practices, as most of the eighth grade squad was incorporated into the upcoming freshman squad. I had mostly let go of the silliness I felt being a cheerleader, but it got me out of the house to hang out with my friends. I would occasionally talk to Jake on the phone or go on a handful of little dates, monitored by my father, of course. I’m not even sure they qualified as dates, because it was mostly like an outing with a friend. And Dad, of course. Still, it was wild being a girl going out with a boy.

  During the gaps in my busy social calendar, I would spend them privately in my room. I would practice my guitar or piano, pore over various books I borrowed from the library, or analyze my financial magazines and the Wall Street Journal. I was meticulous about scanning the business section for notable businesses that I knew were about to open up, and one in particular caught my eye for August. However, I would need to convince my Dad, since as a minor I was on a custodial account under his control.

  I approached him in July, and explained what I wanted to do. I still had some savings, a little over thirteen grand, from modeling and the research stipends, as well as roughly twenty-five grand in my Microsoft position. I told him I wanted to cash out my position, though I’m not sure he understood what that all meant. I calmly explained that there was going to be a big event in August, and when it happened we would more than double our investment. I reminded him of my gains when it came to my purchases last year and how well they had done. I also explained that he could use his own funds to do the same, and to his credit he decided to have a tentative experiment by investing a couple thousand dollars of his own. He was nervous, but I made my pitch very well.

  The event took place in August. A little company called Netscape had announced their initial public offering on the ninth, and I had Dad instruct the brokers to buy as many shares as possible with the account I had. Dad was sweating when he made the call, but I explained that the worst case scenario would be that we would break even since we’d just buy it back the next day. It wasn’t exactly how it worked, but Dad never had a head for economics anyway.

  It was a tense morning, and the two of us were glued to the TV. Dad had called in sick, since it was a Wednesday. Netscape opened at $28 a share which was pretty much around what I expected. I had to explain to Dad what that meant, and together we watched the market on CNN. If it took a dip, Dad panicked, but slowly his eyes grew larger and larger as the stock price grew and grew. By the time the markets closed around three in the afternoon, I had pulled out a calculator to do some math.

  I showed the results to Dad. His investment was worth a respectable four grand from his initial two thousand. He was ecstatic, as he brought his paperwork up to his desk to marvel at his good fortune.

  When he was gone, I did some quick calculations of the money I had earned. My shares were now worth over $80,000. My eyes bulged; I had more than doubled my money in less than a day. I nearly fell over.