My name is Marshall Teller. I have seen my future, and I know everything will be all right.

It happened on a nature hike by the lake, about a week before Halloween. It was just cold enough to need a jacket, but the weather was nice, and we spotted a lot of rare birds in the trees. But that wasn't all we saw that day.

It was when we were coming back that we ran into the temporal portal. We headed up toward the top of the hill, near the parking area, and that was when we saw it: a shimmer in the air, just barely visible, like heat rising off the pavement in summer. But it wasn't hot out at all.

The shimmer grew brighter, took on the shape of a doorway, and someone stepped through.

He was about my dad's height, with short brown hair and a tan camouflage jacket with a patch on it. It had writing on it, but I couldn't read it from this distance.

"Whoa," he said. Then he looked back over his shoulder. "It's safe, guys. Come on!"

The three of us could only stand there and watch as two more men stepped through. One of them had red hair and freckles. The other had grey hair and dark symbols on the backs of his hands.

"You're us," I said. "From the future."

"Got it in one." Future me stepped forward. The patch on his jacket said TELLER, and under it was some kind of number. "I don't know how much time we have here. I know you have a million questions, but I can't answer any of them."

I nodded. "Because it would disrupt the time-space continuum."

Simon seemed pleased with his future. "At least I know I will get taller."

His older self nodded. "Oh, yeah. Puberty's very good to you."

Dash, on the other hand, wasn't as satisfied. "So in twenty years, I'm still hanging around with these twerps?"

"You didn't want to go home, remember?" his older double reminded him. "Besides, you're doing something you love. And you're very good at it. And that's all I can tell you."

"Fair enough."

"Is there any sort of general advice you can give us?" I asked.

"General advice . . ." Older Marshall frowned and glanced up above his head. I'd been told I did that when I was thinking, but this was the first time I had actually seen it. It was really weird. "Well, I can tell you that you're on the right track. Keep doing what you're doing, and amazing things will happen."

"Amazing things always do, in this town. Not always good things, but amazing things."

"Have faith," Older Simon said to his younger counterpart. "Things will work out in ways you can't even imagine right now. Stick with your friends, and look for ways to expand your horizons."

"I don't even know what that means," Simon protested.

"You will."

Dash looked at his older self, who had gone strangely silent. "What about you? Any advice for me? Do I even find out who I am? Isn't there anything you can tell me?"

Older Dash looked uncomfortable. He looked like he was about to say something, but then the portal behind them started fading.

"It's closing up!" Older Marshall said. "We've gotta go, guys."

Dash was still standing there, staring at his younger self.

"Come on, Dash! Time's up!"

Young Dash was staring at him expectantly, waiting for any words of wisdom from the future.

The older versions of me and Simon had already gone through, but Older Dash was still there. Finally he said, "Comb your hair. You look like a bum!"

Then a hand, at the end of an arm wrapped in tan camo, reached through and pulled him into the portal. There was a really bright flash-and then it was gone.

"Bye, guys," I said. "Be ya later."

"Well, we know a few things," Simon said. "We know we're still alive in twenty years. We know we're all still together."

"Yeah, that's something," I admitted. "Dash? What's wrong?"

He was still staring at the spot where the portal had been, like he was in shock. "Comb your hair?" he said, in a small, quiet voice. "That's all he could tell me?"

"Maybe he didn't want to admit that he still didn't know anything," I said.

"He could have at least given me a couple of Superbowl scores."

I looked at him. He gave me a cheeky grin, and we both burst out laughing. Simon looked at us like we were crazy.

"Well, we can't change the future," I said. "But at least we got a glimpse of what's in store for us. As long as we stick together. What do you say? You guys with me?"

"Duh!" Simon said. "We're with you, like, forever. For the next twenty years, at least."

"At least we know we survive whatever crap this town throws at us," said Dash.

"And we're still together," I said. "And we're happy. And that's all that matters. Let's head back now."

Dash glanced over his shoulder as we made our way through the parking lot and towards the street. "Too bad we can't get it back," he said.

I shook my head. "One in a million chance that we just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"On both ends," said Simon. "I wonder what they're thinking right now?"

"We'll find out. When the time comes."

I yanked Dash back through the portal just as it closed up. We fell backwards and rolled through the grass, coming to a stop with him on top of me. I pushed him off and got up.

"Get it back!" He was still lying on the ground. "Open it up again!"

Simon was shaking his head. "Can't. It's gone, dude. It was only a million-to-one chance that we were here for it in the first place."

"You're the one who found it again! Can't you get it to open up again?"

"Dude, I'm an English teacher, not a quantum physicist."

"Why didn't I say something encouraging to him? I mean, 'Comb your hair'? Really? That's all I could come up with?"

"Dash," I said, "let it go. At least he knows he's alive in the future, and doing well. He'll find his own way. You know that."

"I guess so."

I helped him up, and we made our way back to the parking lot. My minivan was sitting next to Dash's truck, the only two vehicles in the lot. In a few weeks, when the beach opened up again, this place would be crowded from dawn till dusk, but it was still too cool for beachgoing and other related activities. It was kinda nice to have the place to ourselves.

"Remember when we talked about the kind of cars we were gonna have?" Simon mused. "I think we settled on . . . blue Mustang, red Corvette, and black Firebird with flames up the side."

"Well, I've got flames, at least," Dash said. And it was true; right under his business name and address was painted a bright yellow-orange streak of flame. "But I don't remember a gold minivan entering into the conversation."

"We all have to make sacrifices along the way," I said. "So much changes, but so much stays the same. Like friendship."

"We have such big dreams when we're kids." Dash climbed up into the front seat of his truck and unlocked the door for Simon. "I thought when I grew up, I'd either be madly rich or in prison. Who'd have thought that I'd end up building houses for a living?"

"It's honest work. So what if you don't have a ton of money? You've got us."

"I never thought that'd be enough. Turns out, your expectations change when you're a grownup. I still wish I could tell him what he really wants to hear."

"Your real name," said Simon. "Which you still don't know."

"But we will," I asserted. "We're continually searching every missing child database in the country. You're in there somewhere. We will find you."

Dash looked over his shoulder one last time before starting up the truck. "He's just so lost. I wish I could give him something to hope for. Some little nugget of information about his past. But even after all this time, there's still nothing."

"There will be. Let's just go home. Our work here is done."

But I was wrong about that. Just as I was about to start the van, my phone rang. The phone that we reserved for our real business. I signaled to the others and hit the ANSWER button. "DMS Investigations, how can I help you? Uh huh. Four times, you said? We'll get right on it. I just need your address."

When the call was ended, I rolled down the window. "We've got a case, guys. Some woman on Houghton Street said that something's broken into her cellar four times. Based on the information she gave me, it sounds like a night goblin."

"Oh, great," Dash grumbled. "The North American kind, who listen to reason, or the European variety, who need to be blasted out?"

"Not sure. Keep the weapons on standby, just in case."

A moment later, we rolled out. Some things change. Some change a lot. But the important things never do.