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against my head and I whirled out of my astonishment to see myself, uh, my past self holding a book in my hand. I'd been hit with the other one.

"God, would you get out already? You dirty old...woman!"

I gaped. "What! I'm you, you little twit."

I snorted, the book clenched tightly. "You're full of it lady. I don't even know how you got in here, but you need to get out."

I could feel my eye twitch at the attitude jumping from my voice. I totally understood why adults didn't feel respected nowadays. I tried to reason with myself. "Look, would you just chill? I'm a little weirded out myself here. I was just looking, who falls inside their own damn memory?"

My past self wrinkled her...my...whatever!...nose. "You were watching me? Ew! Peeper much!"

I threw a shoe at her without thinking and she gasped. "What'd you do that for?" I picked up something else, I don't even know what it was really and tossed it. "Will you shut up for longer than a minute here? I'm trying to figure out if this is some twisted dream and I'm crashed on my couch, overdosed on Cheetos again."

My past self snorted and crossed her arms. "See, that's how I know you're not me. I'm totally not gonna eat Cheetos and I won't pass out on my couch." She struck a pose. "I'm going to be rich and famous, an actress married to a billionaire."

I snorted then was weirded by the similarity between sounds. Too creepy. I looked around then, looked for something that would evidence that I wasn't really in my head, in the past, with my crabby teen self. While she snapped at me every once and awhile, I rifled through the room, growing more and more freaked out by the fact that I wasn't waking up and how real everything felt.

I spun around them, sucked into desperation. How was I going to escape from here? And what exactly was here? There was no way I was in nineteen ninety eight again! "What am I gonna do?" I moaned and fell onto the bed, the bed I hadn't seen since it caught fire in a stupid prank by a stupid ex.

My past self had quieted, either curious or just uncaring about the situation anymore, but she suddenly perked up. "Hey, when you're like dreaming? Aren't you supposed to pinch your arm to, like, find out if it was real?"

I snapped around to look at her so fast, I'm surprised my neck didn't snap. "That's brilliant. That's perfect, the pain should wake me up." I put my arm and promptly pinched myself as hard as possible. "Ow! Crap! That just hurt. Criminy, I'm stuck here," I wailed. "Stuck with my teen self for

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