He'd stayed home the day after the incident, paired with a holiday weekend and the school being closed it was a total of four days before he was back in class. Wilbur settled back into the usual routine quickly, bell rings, fight through congested hallways, repeat until lunch.

As the bell rang once again, he left the cafeteria and switched out his backpack for his duffle bag. When he passed through the locker room he glanced into the coach's office, not surprised to see Adam standing in front of the desk with a sheepish expression.

"Forget your clothes again?" He smirked, but stopped dead in his tracks at the coach's voice.

"Robinson, you think you could lend some gym clothes? Mr. Conner has forgotten his again." The man directed his next comment to Adam. "There's sneakers in the locker there you can use."

Wilbur peeked around the door, face pale. His eyes darted from Adam, who was looking at the tag for the size of the shoe in his hand, to the man seated behind the desk. He cleared his throat roughly and answered with a quick nod.

"Uh-...yeah, I have some extra clothes..."

"Perfect." The man grinned, grabbed the clipboard as he stood. He seemed to suddenly notice Wilbur's discomfort and looked at him questioningly.

"Is something wrong Mr. Robinson?"

Wilbur seemed to only blanch more at the question and shook his head.

"No- sorry, I uh-"

"Well then you boys better get moving, we're on a compressed schedule with the assembly this afternoon."

"Oh...kay-..." He backed out of the office and turned to go to his locker, ignoring Adam's questions as he dug through his duffle bag.

That was...

"Who is that?" Wilbur suddenly interupted Adam as he threw a shirt at him.

"The sub, you know...he fills in when coach Jones takes the soccer team to tournaments and stuff?"

But it was-

"I...don't know? What's his name?"

Adam sat on the bench. "Did you hit your head? How do you not know? It's Coach Mike."

He started to prattle on about how from the first day they'd had Coach Mike as a sub, no one could pronounce his last name right so he'd told the kids that use of his first name was fine.

Wilbur listened impatiently, and gestured for him to get on with making his point.

"Yeah, yeah- no one could- but what is it-?!"

"Like...well it starts with a Y. Ya- yag."

"Yagoobian?"

Bowler Hat Guy!

"Yeah!" Adam nodded. "But everyone calls him Coach Mike."

How?

The man didn't even seem to find anything amiss! He'd looked at Wilbur with general recognition but nothing that would indicate he remembered...well that.

He looked different too...

Wilbur was shaken from his thoughts by the coach's voice.

"Get a move on boys, let's go!"

With his shoes finally tied, Wilbur jumped up from the bench to leave the locker room and head into the gym, wary as he observed the man taking roll.

Michael Yagoobian looked different. He was still tall and lean, though he was definitely not the stuff of nightmares. A life of proper nutrition and upbringing had seen to that. He appeared much younger to Wilbur than before, and he could only figure it was for the same reasons.

Clean shaven, with the stereotypical athletic wear of a coach or gym teacher, Coach Mike wore a baseball cap of the Wilkes University team. He called each student's name and stood with the confidence of any of the other teachers Wilbur knew.

It was surreal.

The game was old school today, old fashioned dodgeball and Wilbur was so distracted he spent most the time on the bench for being taken out early every round. He stared at his one time nemesis from the bleachers, trying to understand why he would remember but the new Michael Yagoobian would not.

The class ended, he changed as quickly as possible with a word to Adam to keep the old shirt and shorts, and that it would probably be in his best interest if he left clothes at the school all the time. Wilbur went straight to the library for his study hall, pulled the tablet from his backpack and started his investigation as roll was once again called.

He spent the entire class period reading up on Michael Yagoobian, the star athlete of Wilkes University who had been scouted by multiple teams and injured in his second year of the major leagues. After surgery on a shoulder and physical therapy, he'd played another two years before ultimately retiring. Yagoobian had returned to his alma mater, and took over the coaching position when his own former coach had retired.

Wilbur read everything the sports page had to offer. Scanning over bold print for important headings, finally clicking on a link for early life. He was disappointed to find that it was the general vague explanations most searches provided.

The bell rang and he was forced to put his tablet away. He hefted the monsterous backpack over one shoulder and slipped into the hoard of students as they made their way to the auditorium.

He didn't pay any attention to the assembly, he'd slouched in the chair with his chin rested on one hand and stared into oblivion. When the bell had rung he'd gathered his things and followed the crowd into the hall and stopped briefly at his locker to get what he needed to take home.

The sun outside was a harsh contrast to the low lighting of the auditorium and Wilbur squinted as he looked for his father's hover car from where he stood on the sidewalk. When he'd finally spotted him, he trudged down the walk and flopped into the passenger seat.

"Hey! What are you doing here?"

Wilbur offered a look of confusion and was about to reply when there was a response from over his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin and looked out the open window. Apparently the question hadn't been directed at him.

"Filling in. On my way back to the university."

"Game?"

"Yeah." Mike glanced at his watch and raised a brow. "In...twenty- gotta run, but it was good seeing you." Hefting the baseball bag over one shoulder, he added a brief wave in Wilbur's direction as he left.

"Have a good night, Wilbur."

"You...too..."

Wilbur sat in silent confusion and watched the man walk down the sidewalk. He finally glanced uncertainly towards his father and was forced to do a double take at the knowing look he recieved.

"What- I- I don't-...what?"

"Time's a funny thing Captain Time Travel. I don't even have those kind of answers."

"Why don't I remember him? I mean I do- but not that him-"

"I don't know." Cornelius replied honestly as they left the parking lot.

"Well what if I-"

"Absolutely not."

"But I don't understand!"

Cornelius shook his head, it would be a long time before Wilbur was allowed anywhere near a time machine again.

Silence fell over the hover car then and Wilbur wracked his brain over the ifs, ands, and whys of the situation. It didn't make sense! Why did he remember but the Bowler Hat- no, Mike Yagoobian, didn't? Or maybe he did and wasn't letting on? Should he ask? That would be weird though, wouldn't it?

Yeah...definitely weird.

"Will, are you listening?"

He looked up quickly. "Huh? Sorry..."

"I said I would prefer you not understanding over any other possible outcome of this conversation."

Wilbur huffed and looked out the window, but frowned when he realized they were already parked in the garage. Had he been day dreaming that much?

He sighed in resignation. "Ok..."

Cornelius smirked and patted him on the shoulder before getting out of the car. He paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, Will?"

Wilbur looked up from retrieving his stuff. "Yeah?"

Cornelius gestured with one hand, car keys swinging with the motion.

"Close the door, will you?"

Wilbur looked where his father indicated, grabbed his backpack and after a brief pause, pushed the garage door shut with his foot before turning to follow his father into the house.

AN: Time travel is confusing. Who knew it was Goob from the start? :)