Diary of a Teenage Time Traveler

Diary Entry December 20, 2066

Mom and Dad are suffocating me with Christmas cheer this year. I told them all I want is an eSubscription to Fashion Fallout and they looked at me like starlight was beaming from my ears. Just because Fashion Fallout uses non-traditional cyber models on the catwalks shouldn't matter. It's 2066--we're practically an all-inclusive society now. Mom and Dad can be so old-fashioned when it comes to artificial intelligence. They think it reduces job security for humans and increases economical recessions.

They can’t wait for my next World Economics course so they can dictate my paper for me.

I guess I’m just in a funk. Christmas is a few days away and I’m over it. Holiday decorations, carols, jolly-making. Blah blah blah already. Okay, so I used to get into all that, but I’m fifteen now, I’ve moved on.

Truth is, ever since the rumors with Cody started, I’ve changed. Mom and Dad swear I’m depressed--mainly because I’ve started wearing dark colors, but that’s not it. Yeah, I’m still pissed about the gossip, but not like they think. When you live in an uber small town like Paloot, Alsaka, everyone knows everything. And you’d think all the local chat room stuff would stay online, but it doesn’t. Kids take that chatter with them when they walk out their front doors. As if there’s nothing else more riveting to talk about. For instance, Frozen Solstice has a magically outstanding new album out, but do any of them discuss Dirk Stiles’ vocal performance on track 7? No. Do any of them fan all over the instrumental riff on the intro? Not a chance.

I swear this town is depressingly spunk-free. Spunk-less. De-spunked.

Mom says they’re just bored. I guess when you’re not a time traveler, life can be pretty dull. I know I complain sometimes and all, because my life is so … different. But truth is, I can’t imagine not being able to plot my next time trip destination or bounce through the cosmos or explore a time most can only read about.  

Anyway, I’m not pissed about the fact Cody told everyone he felt me up, or the fact they believed I let him. I’m pissed because he said his brother had bigger boobs than I do. For like two weeks, anytime any one of the other local kids saw me, they called me B Flat. It got old really fast. So I locked myself in my bedroom for two days and did nothing but watch Frozen Solstice holographic concerts. I mean, grow up already!

Dad came into my room finally and said, “Bee, you can’t let stuff like this get to you. It happens to the best of us, and you need to see it as an opportunity to show you’re above it. In a few days, it’ll all be behind you and you’ll see how trite it really is.”

Parents are always saying crap like that, expecting it to flip a switch somewhere inside us so we leap up and fling our arms around them. “Now, I understand, Dad! Thank you so much for helping me see the light!”

He doesn’t get it. I’m not humiliated like he thinks. I’m pissed. I was robbed of my first kiss being magical. Instead, I got slobbered on and groped. So gross. 

But the good news is Dad felt so sorry for me, he asked if there was anything he could do to help me feel better. You know what I told him? I want a tattoo. Just like the one I saw on that woman in Mexico.

At first his mouth fell open, then he frowned. For a minute, I thought he was going to go totally prude. I was going to be like WTH?? I mean, he has a vintage clock tattoo on his arm he got when he was eighteen. And Mom has flower wreaths on both ankles from her folk-funk days.

I know I’m only fifteen, but things are different now. Times have changed, and kids don’t wait til they’re legal adults to get ink anymore. I’ve seen kids younger than me with tats.

Dad left my room and came back with Mom about thirty minutes later.

Mom said, “Here’s the deal. We wanted you to wait til you were sixteen before embellishing your body with tattoos, but if it’ll cheer you up, then we’re okay with it.”

“Really?” I jumped up and down. I mean, I’ve never been more excited about anything, except maybe the live Frozen Solstice concert.

Dad had a cautious look on his face, though, like he was ready to drop a really big but. And he did. He said, “But we don’t want you to go crazy getting tattooed from head to toe. We’re agreeing to this with the understanding these will be your only tattoos, and we reserve the right to remove them whenever we feel you’re not exhibiting maturity or responsibility.”

That’s Dad. Always speaking like he’s reading a warning label. I swear I don’t make this stuff up. This is what’s in my blood, how Buttermans think. And this is why Dad writes all the Butterman Travel handbook jargon.

“A simple swipe is all it takes to lift them from your skin forever,” Mom said. “I can order the device and it’ll be here within days if we feel you’re not behaving responsibly.”

I nodded my head in agreement because I was so stoked, but what I was thinking the whole time was how easy it’d be to simply get new ink again if they ever remove mine.

I messaged Kayla as soon as Mom and Dad left the room and she said, “Me too! I want something small on my wrist.”

And I kept thinking we could bring her with us to a tattoo parlor in Juneau, but what I didn’t realize was that Dad was going for a full Parent-of-the-Year nomination and insisted that if we’re going to do it—we’d be doing it right.

So he attached a time-port to New Zealand for sixteen years ago in 2050 for their annual epic Warrior Festival and I’m so effin’ excited I can’t stand it!!

But we have to wait til after the holidays, which is leaving me with this really big boo moment. Boo Dad. Because he cheered me up, then told me I had to wait.

But it’s cool. I guess I can be patient. I mean, I’m finally getting my tattoos!! Magic. 

Signing off.