The night and early morning played out in a single looping conversation between one part of Jeffrey and another (maybe more parts, but mostly the two). The wording of the major points discussed by Jeffrey’s two main parts changed a little with each new round, though the same basic ideas kept cycling through, essentially:

Jeffrey 1: I shouldn’t watch videos, even though I want to, if it’s something I do to stop myself from seeing things my weird way.

Jeffrey 2: But shouldn’t I also have fun, and relax, and watch whatever I enjoy?

Jeffrey 1: But I don’t even really enjoy them. Not most of them. I watch the things I want, then just sort of fill in time with whatever plays next, right?

Jeffrey 2: So, what if I only watch the ones I really want to watch, and then spend the rest of my time doing good things . . . or, more important things?

Jeffrey 1: Yeah, that makes sense, but…

At this point, Jeffrey (probably spurred by Jeffrey 2) would start to breathe all uneven and quick.

Then both Jeffreys might marvel at the fact that pods seemed to magically migrate to ears as his screen appeared from nowhere.

Jeffrey 1 stayed on edge whenever one of those latest, best videos played, desperate not to miss the need to hit pause and let himself go with his special vision ability the way he had outside the school.

And as soon as each chosen, quality video ended, the same conversation would get launched back around to repeat again, with Jeffrey 1 insisting on putting down the device and moving on to other matters, while Jeffrey 2 (perhaps the wilier and better-spoken of the two) hummed and whined about no real rush, and just a couple more, sprinkled with a glittery helping of c’mon, I’m not just some kind of robot, right?!

By the bus ride the next morning, Jeffrey had grown so annoyed with his raging inner voices (particularly that of Jeffrey 1) he’d resolved to just watch whichever videos, like always, and wait until school to be forced to stop.

He hated the way Jeffrey 1 never seemed happy to merely keep him from his screen but remained ever ready with further pressures to pile on, the latest of which being: Why don’t I go sit next to Penelope there near the front. She’s always so friendly. What’s she gonna do but smile and say hi or whatever? It’ll be good practice. It’s all about stretching, and growing, and…

Now, just because he’d undergone the most bizarre rollercoaster ride imaginable through some ethereal tunnel-esque portal (or portal-esque tunnel), he was still Jeffrey . . . still the same quiet kid who fell asleep most nights with substitutable internet voices conversing away amongst themselves in his ears. No revelation of beyond-human wisdom written in nothingness across walls of everything could have turned him into the type to force himself to sit next to girls on the bus just to expand his abilities and character.

The morning at school played out like any other except that Peck sure seemed to be looking at him funny in double science.

As Jeffrey’s eyes wandered over to glimpse Peck and Sean Jackson, Peck’s lab partner, awkwardly grab for the same beaker, Jeffrey caught sight of another cabin interior not at all like Peck’s old triangle-point getaway. Far smaller, this one consisted of just a single little room, impossible to even fully stand up straight in. He spotted only two short wooden stools for furniture. He also saw Gel, half-standing behind one of the stools, motionless. Immediately, he felt his focus being pulled toward her, drawn by the urgency in her eyes. He knew from her expression she’d been waiting for him for some time, and would now proceed to teach him all she knew. The whole internal scrap between the two Jeffreys seemed so, so silly all of a sudden . . . so childish and beneath whatever momentous event would transpire the moment he gave himself over to destiny and took his place beside Gel near those stools.

It’s a lie! part of his mind screamed at him. Don’t get trapped in hopeful thoughts like fate and purpose! What good are they?

He shook his head, his mental spell broken by the flare of Peck’s and Sean’s little Bunsen burner flame as it sparked up to meet the metal prongs and glass above.

Slowly, his awareness floated back to where he stood next to an empty beaker, unlit flame, and Sarah Heelay, his lab partner.

Now, Jeffrey and Sarah both showed great skill at practicing an unspoken art they’d honed, which was getting through their projects together without talking or making eye contact. Each was glad to ignore the other as both efficiently played their parts.

So, while Sarah clipped their beaker upright, keeping her gaze on only it, Jeffrey took his cue and reached to unfasten a silver tube with mystery black chemicals to add. At the very edge of his perception, he noticed the way her wavy blonde hair wisped sideways as she arched her neck and raised her shoulders slightly.

This time, he was oddly aware of something about to occur at that other, more-than-natural level . . . something he half-twitched and partly averted his eyes (or mind) to try to avoid.

But it was too late.

He saw Sarah standing tall in front of another classroom, a future classroom (since she looked years older), giving a speech about . . . he couldn’t tell. He didn’t hear the words. And the whiteboard behind her had nothing written on it except for a single line at the top, which read: Persuasive Speeches, Jan 4-8, 25 Points.

Watching that version of Sarah give her unheard talk, Jeffrey realized, was the first time he’d ever really looked at her. And seeing her now as an actual person, he felt bad the word giraffe kept coming to mind. He knew it wasn’t meant in any kind of insulting or demeaning way. The Sarah in his vision simply had the long-limbed, careful manner of a soft and smart, kind and helpful, giraffe.

Then the scene changed, and Sarah became an actual giraffe cheerfully stretching her neck high, high up to reach and deliver back the most scrumptious of leaves to many others who couldn’t reach.

“Um, are you gonna…”

If Jeffrey hadn’t been so aware of using his newly recognized ability, he might not have realized Sarah had spoken back in the regular world where she was his lab partner and class was taking place.

He felt a pang of embarrassment to grasp how his staring off into space had forced her to do the unthinkable and break their sacred pact by having to talk.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and tipped in the liquid as she readied their flame.

He then found himself facing a strangely undeniable, irresistible fact. Having seen Sarah as the loving, caring giraffe she must really be . . . having witnessed what she surely would, or could, or should become . . . their whole not talking arrangement suddenly felt utterly ridiculous to carry on with. He longed to say something, anything to maybe encourage the delicate, beautiful potential he saw in her.

But that must be Jeffrey 1, since the other (or at least another) part screamed at him in his mind to just shut up, and run away, and watch a video, and…

Of course that second part (Jeffrey 2...?) won out.

Yet even though all bright notions of unthinkable actions like saying nice words to someone in science got seeped and stolen from his will like pirated gold, he sensed his special ability again taking hold. He felt himself entering back into his vision state.

The Bunsen burner flame and its sparking reaction above weren’t enough to keep him from seeing a different, more distant future Sarah, now a grown woman in a lengthy white coat speaking before a massive auditorium. She wore thin-rimmed glasses, and her sandy blonde hair appeared a little darker. He knew at once she was the hero of everyone in that enormous room.

Nothing could have been more relieving than the scraping, crunching bell sound that signaled the end of Jeffrey’s long double period. The hideous noise wrenched him back to the here and now, freeing him from his unbearable urge to find a way to communicate what he’d seen of Sarah’s life.

After collapsing out the door and around the corner, away, he bent and heaved as if barely finishing an entire cross country race.

Could the power he and Gel shared really give them access to see the future?

If so, that would be a whole different ball game than just glimpsing funny pictures, blank bell domes, alien scripts, disembodied grins, and past things like Peck’s beloved boyhood pet. Seeing ahead in time seemed more like a legitimate superpower.

But wouldn’t that have to mean Jeffrey 1 dominating and winning out over the other(s)?

He tried to picture a reality of always feeling forced to step fully up and out into whatever conversations or circumstances might help move a person toward any good things they could have in store. The weight of it felt crippling. To be responsible for others’ destinies could only mean never again feeling free in the least to slow down or switch off his racing (odd) mind for even a second.

He’d end up even more of a freak than he already was.

So much confusion. So many questions. He hoped the next two classes might fly by so he could join again with Gel and begin what was sure to be the next phase of their training.

He considered scrambling to the restrooms to let videos carry him to lunchtime. But what stopped him in his tracks, and all but slid him (willing or not) around corners to a fresh hour of math with Mr. Hensler, was just a brief, flashing snapshot memory of the quiet, steady, smart dignity he’d seen in future Sarah’s eyes (both future Sarahs). And though it came as but a dim, edgeless impression, he caught an undeniable sense of the immense dark resistance and pain she’d have to face and fight her way through before she could stand tall and deliver her priceless goods to a hungry world. It was that binding, blinding weight of coming relentless resistance (for Sarah) that robbed Jeffrey of his plans to escape and consume. He had to keep his mind clear, and stay open and ready to help however he could.

For about the next two hours, all Jeffrey thought of was how he hoped Gel would change him and make him better.