Sam sat on the bed in his older brother's room, talking to Tom. 
He wished that he was able to spend time with him, but it was already 
Monday afternoon and Tom had to catch the train back to the base. Katie 
walked into the room, and dumped a pile of her stuff on the bed.
	"What do you think you're doing?" Sam asked her.
	"Moving in," she answered.
	"This is my room, Katie," Sam said. His parents, and even Tom, 
told him that it was his. At least, they did before Thanksgiving.  
	"No, it's not," Katie defended. "You said I could have it."
	"Did not!" 
	"Did to!"
	 I stepped into the Chamber, and ended up right behind my friend. 
The first thing I noticed-- it was very hard not to notice--was my friend 
auguring with his little sister. I think the job requirement of siblings 
is to always be a pain in the ass, take it from somebody who knows. I 
usually get along with my brothers and sisters, but sometimes they are 
real jerks, especially my youngest brother. I think it's something 
about the age, since Sam's little sister is the exact same age. Like, 
right now, I'm trying to write this report for your class, but the 
little numbskull is too busy banging on his damn drums and won't stop, 
even though I told him that if he didn't stop he would get a knuckle 
sandwich from me.
	"Sam, I can't believe you! You are such a jerk! Tom's room is 
mine!" Katie yelled angrily at her older brother. "First, you told me 
on Wednesday that Tom's room is mine, and now, you said it's not."   
	"At least, you've got your own room," I stated. "I always had to 
share with my zillion brothers."  Sometimes, it feels like I have 
a zillion brothers. Actually I only have eight, and most of them are 
much older than me. 
	"Where did you come from?" Sam asked me.
	"Oh, I just decided to pop in for a while," I answered him. We 
had already spent much time together during the weekend. In that time, 
we had already became friends. (Don't worry, teach. That weekend I 
didn't do anything to surprise him like walk through walls or hologram 
stuff like that.)  
	"First, you told me Wednesday after practice that Tom's room is 
mine, and now, you said it's not," Katie stated.
	"Oh, that's easy to explain," I said, remembering some of 
what I considered to be useful information.  "The court of Judge Joey 
finds the defendant not guilty on account of not being here on Wednesday 
	Sam looked at me curiously, truly not understanding what I just 
said. Despite his perfect memory, he could not remember being in the 
Waiting Room and away from home, and, according to him, he never left 
his farm in Elk Ridge, Indiana. "Where was I?" 
	I could just picture myself telling him that he disappeared into 
the future, and Doc B took over his body due to a government project 
that little Doc B would create when he was older. I can't explain it 
to myself. How could I explain it to him, and have him believe me, 
without giving away too much information about his future? So, I 
didn't say anything.
	"You were right with me in the barn, remember?" Katie stated.
	He couldn't. 
	Sam's mother walked into the room. 
	"Mom, isn't this room mine?" Katie asked as soon as she as 
saw her.
	Mrs. Beckett sighed at her children. Tom wasn't even out of his 
room yet, and already her two other children were arguing about whose 
it was. She was happy that things had basically changed back to normal, 
while only a few days ago things were really messed up. "Katie, I know 
he said it was yours," she told her daughter. "But, just give it to Sam, 
ok?" She figured that giving the room to Sam would make him feel better 
and cure him for what happened the week before.
	"So every time I want something all I have to do is act crazy," 
Katie muttered under her breath, as she grabbed her stuff and stormed 
out of the room. If he was looking at me, he would have seen her passing 
through the right side of my body. 
	"Thanks, mom," Sam said, ignoring his sister's behavior. He felt 
like he was the source of the thick tension in the house, which was 
harder to cut through than my mom's eggplant parmesan with extra  
cheese. He didn't know why, nobody really talked about it. And even if 
he could remember what happened to him those few days, he still 
wouldn't know.
	"Boys, you have another hour," Mrs. Beckett announced. "Tom, 
the next train for the base will leave in an hour and a half, ok?" 
	"That's fine, mom," Tom agreed.
	"Tom, I wish you didn't have to leave," Sam stated.
	I wish I had time to tell him that he had just said the wrong 
thing. I could understand what he said. If one of my brothers was 
going off to war, or just leaving home again, I certainly would want 
him to stay longer . . . especially if I didn't spend as much time with 
him as I would have liked. But, judging about what Doc B was claiming, 
only days before, about what would happen, Sam had just opened up an 
area meant to be closed. 
	Tom looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his uniform, while 
thinking about what to say next. He remembered how his little brother 
kept sincerely claiming, for most of the time they were together, that 
he was going to die on April the eighteenth. The town doctor had said 
to just deal and humor him, . . . but Tom now wished that the week had 
never happened, and wanted the subject to be closed. "Don't worry, 
little brother," Tom said. "There is no way in hell or heaven that 
I'll die in April, like you said before."
	"I said you were going to die?" Sam asked, curiously. He would 
never say anything like that to his big brother. If he said anything at 
all, it would be to return home safely and wish him luck, not to claim 
that the only way he was going to come back would be in a body bag. He 
hoped that whatever he said won't come true.
	"Don't worry, Sam," I said, trying to comfort my friend. "He's 
not going to die." Basically, because Sam will save him from being 
shot to death. I wished that I could help my friend even more. But, it 
was not the time. And, right then, I didn't know when the time was. 
			* * * 
	My pop, Doc B and I stood on the train platform, watching 
Sam and his family wait for the train to pull up to the station 
for Tom to board. I could tell by the look in Doc B's eyes that 
he wanted to find out some way of saving the rest of his family. 
He had saved Tom by leaping into the war, but his father and little 
sister were still in danger. And, he felt he should not make any 
more moves to save them. Even though he had leaped into his own 
father, he realized that as soon as he leaped out that his father 
would go back to his old eating habits. And, he did not want to try 
to talk his little sister out of ever dating an abusive alcoholic 
name, Chuck, a guy she didn't even meet yet, and didn't believe him 
at first and then became extremely upset the first time that Sam 
leaped into and tried to change everything.
	In my opinion, he should not have done anything at all in the 
first place. I wouldn't want anybody leaping into me and telling 
my entire family that bad things were going to happen to them.
	"Al, any idea on why I'm here?" Sam asked. He somehow knew 
it was not to save his family. 
	My pop looked down at the handlink. "No clue, Sam. Ziggy is 
still coming up with nada."
	I think my pop said something to Doc B after that, don't ask 
what because I wasn't listening. There was a pretty good reason why 
I didn't. Well, a pretty teenage girl anyway.  She had wavy blond 
hair, which felt shortly below her shoulders. A short, yellow 
cheerleading uniform showed off her terrific figure, and especially 
her great pair of pom-poms.  To my surprise, she walked right over 
to Sam. How does a smart guy like that get a chick who's even 
hotter than my girlfriend? (Don't tell her that, will you?)
	 "Joseph Calavicci," I heard my pop call me. I partially 
ignored him, even though he was using his admiral voice, which was 
said to scare many a sailor and pilot more than a hurricane. I could 
tell that he was trying to get my attention for some time now, as I 
turned toward him again and saw the angry expression on his face. 
"Joseph, I took you along with me so you can learn something by 
paying attention to me and Doctor Beckett."
	"I was paying attention," I said, hoping that my pop would 
get off my case.
	"Yeah, to the girl who just passed by," he scolded. "Now, go 
back to the Project, and do what I told you."
	What did he tell me? "But, pop!" But, pop, she was a 
knockout! But, pop, why should I pay attention if nothing is 
happening? But, pop, why should I go back to the project, if I 
am supposed to learn something?
	I didn't feel like arguing with my pop, especially judging 
by the fierce mood he was in. I also knew he had an appointment 
with the Project committee later that day, and, as usual, the 
committee wasn't happy about something-or-another. So, I left. 
	The door was accidentally left open a notch, since it was a 
regular door and not the one that closes shut behind the Observer. 
I could hear exactly what Doc B and my pop were talking about.
	"Al, you should have gone easy on Joey. So, he got distracted 
for a little bit by some girl. Big deal!" Sam stated. I'm glad he 
took my side on this issue, because I really wasn't doing anything 
wrong at all. He looked directly at my pop. "Junior actually reminds 
me a tiny bit of someone I used to know."
	"Who?" my pop asked, wondering who it was.
	"You, before everything changed," he told my pop. "When 
everything changed for you a very long time ago, back when you 
were younger, before you got married and everything." I could tell 
that the last part of Doc B's statement was added on later, and not 
a part of the first part, his original statement.
	I could not really understand what Doc B claimed. I know 
that a lot of people say I look like my pop, but knew that wasn't what 
he was talking about. It seemed to be directed more to what I did, 
but the only thing I did was check out that totally fly cheerleader. 
And the thought of my pop ever looking at any girl besides my mom, 
or doing anything else with anybody in the entire universe for 
that matter, is totally impossible and is also  . . . well . . . , 
to borrow a phrase from both Chrissy and Tina,  "Eww, totally 

Monica, (c) 1997