As I enter the world I've been looking after for so long, it truly doesn't feel real. I've seen this from headquarters, but now I'm not just living, I'm living on Earth. I know that I'm supposed to be coming up with conversation starters or going to call Zeke to pass the time, but I just walk around Michaela's high school and take in the sights for a bit. I feel the leaves on the trees and bushes, smell the freshly bloomed spring flowers, and finally decide to look at myself with the pocket mirror that I randomly found in my purse.

I have a clear…what they call 'baby face'. I think I look very young for 17. I don't even truly know what my hair looks like since it's wrapped in a large bun. I can't help but wonder if maybe this would look more like a 90's teenager's outfit if I put on accessories or something different, but I just entered this world less than 20 minutes ago and I don't think I'm ready to be that bold yet.

Nobody will be arriving to prom for a couple hours, and it feels so odd spending the time that I'm supposed to be helping Michaela just standing here at her high school counting the minutes until she's coming. It's about to be my world soon, and I need to make sure that Michaela is ok and keeping on track. It is something so small and insignificant if I go to see her, that I'm confident that it won't mess up the future. I'd be meeting her anyways, so what's the harm in meeting her an hour earlier?

I remember her address from Gemma entering it into the system, so I start my short walk to Michaela's childhood home. It is 5:30 when I arrive, and her mom answers the door. I recognize that she definitely looks like her mother. They both have the same blond hair, blue eyes, nose, chin, and smile. Finally, I formally meet Michaela. I can tell that she's trying to put on a brave face for me and the world, but deep down, she's uncomfortable and hurting. I then realize that she's shutting herself out from the world, but I only just entered it. I'm supposed to be her guardian angel tonight, so I need to step up and help her. It will be so hard, but maybe if she isn't depressed the whole night, she will be less likely to try changing the past, so I have to try.

I shouldn't meddle, but I started, and now she's venting everything to me, "Angelina, you have no idea how hard it was to even come to the door tonight. I'm going to watch my best friends, my only friends, die again tonight. The guilt was almost too much for me last time. I don't know if I can do it again. It feels like every second is going by so slowly. I'm dreading having to get up from this bed, go to my prom, and walk home just like I did last time."

I can't help but feel so bad for her. When reading about and watching teens all over her country going to prom, it sounds like it should be one of the best nights of her life, but memories from the past are ruining it for Michaela. Once I talk about how I was excited to be here for the next few years, I realize that she's even sadder, so I know I need to say something.

"Hey, Michaela," I say comfortingly, "I know that this is hard for you and I can't even imagine what it's like going through this again, but you don't have to think of the start of this night like that."

"What do you mean?" Michaela asks me, "It was horrible then, and it's even more horrible now. That can't be undone."

I respond, "Um, Mick, you literally have the chance to rewrite the worst night of your life. Maybe instead of thinking what is to come, you should embrace the fact that you'll be spending the next few hours hanging out with me, a new friend, and also Lourdes and Evie, the friends you lost. You can either think of this as a horrible experience, or you can embrace the fact that you can see your friends again. You literally have the chance to say goodbye to them. You couldn't do that before. That is priceless. So, you can either sulk about everything that's happened, or you can have the time of your life partying with your best friends at your prom."

The look she gave me makes me know that she's realized that I'm right. It's time to reshape this night to look back on it fondly. Before I even have the time to think about ways to make this more fun for us, she runs to her closet, pulls out a bunch of dresses, and plops them on the bed.

"Mick, what are you doing?"

"Come on Angelina, get up!"

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

So I get up and she shoves me to the bathroom across the hall. It's decorated like an old person would decorate their bathroom. The only way you can tell that it's a teenage girl's is the makeup strewn all over the counter surrounding the small sink. She called someone, and I have no idea what she's saying, but she looks excited. Then, Michaela takes out a case of what turns out to be makeup. It looks unused.

"I remember," she tells me, "that my mom keeps a spare makeup bag under the towels in case I lose mine or she loses hers."

Next, she applies makeup. I've never worn it before, so it feels odd. I don't even look at myself in the mirror as I try not to squint as she puts on eyeliner or itch my face when she's applying powder or blush. After she's done with the makeup, she undoes my bunned hair. It falls to my shoulders. She takes one look at me and takes out her curling iron. I stand as still as possible as she turns my hair from straight to curly. She brushes out my hair with a spare comb in that makeup bag, making my hair go from tight curls to loose waves. It still feels a bit warm as she lets the hair fall to my shoulders again, but it cools down as she sprays it with what I can only assume is hair spray. No words had to be exchanged, only smiles. We both knew that the other was having fun, and that's what matters. I never thought I'd be getting a glam makeover in general, let alone by Michaela Beth Stone. She said that she hated makeup, but I don't think that's true. I think makeup, fancy shoes, and dresses reminded her of this night, but the aura of being uncomfortable seemed to mostly vanish from her since this night was no longer bad. She can now think of all of these things and remember the feeling of taking a bit of her life back again.

Before I can even look at myself in the mirror, she excitedly brings me back to her bed, and tells me to choose a different dress.

"My boyfriend, Jared," she starts to explain, "he hated every single dress I put on. I wanted to stand up for myself, but he was very controlling. He got angry at me for wearing makeup, wearing clothes that were more tight fitting, spending too much time with my friends, talking to guys, not complimenting him all the time, asking him for anything ever. He called me names and insulted me whenever I did something he didn't like. I didn't even know I was doing something wrong, and no matter how many times I apologized, he refused to listen. My family and I spent around 1000 dollars just on prom dresses, and this is the only one that he didn't yell at me for. I have all of these other dresses, so you can take whichever you want. They'll all be donated anyways."

I feel sorry for her again. No wonder she hated all things girly. Even after all that she's been through, her kindness and good heart still show in this moment and so many others. She doesn't want me to pity her. She's strong, so I need to just live in the happy moment of finally having someone in my life who is caring again. I give her a smile and nod, like I read about in books about human nature, and grab the first dress.

The first is sky blue and knee length. I can tell that this wasn't one of those that she picked this dress just for Jared. I spend the next 5 minutes trying on a bunch more dresses. Pink, brown, green, purple, red, yellow, white, and after being interrupted by her (very kind) friends, Lourdes and Evie, I try on that beautiful maroon dress. It is not my style and it's definitely too long for me, but when I show it off to Michaela, her face changes. She tells me the story of the dress. A part of me wants to wear it for her, but the other part of me knows that if anyone is to wear it, it should be her.

After I chose my favorite dress, knowing how different it was from what I was expected to wear, I just felt so free and happy. I think I'm starting to feel like I belong here. I get my makeup touched up by Evie and Lourdes, and when it's done, I turn to the footsteps behind me and see Michaela going to her messy makeup bag and re-applying her makeup. She is wearing that dress that she loved but was so timid to wear.

Later, we take pictures. I've never had my picture taken before, but I can see why people love to take them. It's memories for later. As we get in the car to go to the prom, I see Michaela pulling out her journal and writing almost the whole way there. She seems so content, and she's smiling from ear to ear. Stepping out of the limo and into the prom is just so surreal. I've seen parties, but never been to one.

While Lourdes and Evie spend the night socializing, Michaela and I had to take some time to get used to it all. I'm overwhelmed, but eventually Jared pulls her onto the dance floor, and as her guardian angel, I go out to protect her. Soon the three of us join up with our friends, who I started calling Eve and Lou since it felt natural, and we spend the night having fun. As her friends, Lou, Eve, and I refuse to let her stop her fun and leave the dance floor to get too caught up with Jared. Seeing the four of us tonight, feeling free, is the best feeling I've ever had.

Once the night is over and we're all leaving, the mood seems to shift. The walk home is solemn, since both Michaela and I knew that only 2 of us would end up making it there. I've grown to become kind of close friends with Evie and Lourdes. Well, as close as you can get in just a few hours. It would be cool to get to know them more, but time must go on, and it must go on the same.

Seeing the sad look on Mick's face made me whisper into her ear, "Remember, Mick, these next few minutes will be horrible and go by so slow, but reclaim your future. It wasn't about undoing the events, it was about saying goodbye and making the last moments with them happy. This has to happen for the world to be saved. It's about sacrifice. Also, you won't be alone. I'm still here along with your family, and Zeke will be coming here in just a few months. We are all right here for you." It may not have been what she wanted, but she leaned back over to me and said, "Thank you Angelina. I needed that."

I look at my watch. It's 11:03. The train is sounding off in the distance, but it's growing closer by the second. During my time as a part of the TLTF, I've seen so many gruesome things, that the thought of what is about to come barely affects me. Now all that we have to do is step away from the train tracks. Michaela looks away, but holds out her purse and asks me, "Can you hold on to this for me?" Of course I agree, but in what felt like a second and 3 hours all at the same time, I can see her adrenaline kick in and it's when she went into her fight or flight mode. Last time, she chose flight, but I hear her mumble, "I have to reclaim my future." Before I can stop her, she runs in the path of the oncoming train and pushes her friends off to the side with me. Mick tries to excape, but is pushed and slammed to the ground by the wind of the train. She wasn't hit, but there is blood coming from her head. Evie and Lourdes scream, then Evie is left to tend to Michaela's wounds as Lourdes is on the phone with 911. I stand there in shock. She is alive, but so are her friends. Her friends, who are supposed to be dead, are alive and helping their friend who just made a decision that may end my career and her life once the 8 years are up.

At 11:05 pm, Michaela Stone changed the past, and I couldn't stop her. It was my responsibility to keep things the same, but my words caused her to make an impulsive decision to change the past, and it is my fault.

What have I done?