LEO'S POV

Sammy/Fake Me stormed up to Rufus with his dunce cap in his hand, looking angry. "No, no, no!" he announced, waving his free hand wildly at the other kids, who were gathering to watch the entertainment.

Sammy turned to Hazel. "Miss Lamarr, your line is. . ." Sammy looked around in exasperation. "Script! What is Hedy Lamarr's line?"

"'No, please, you villian!'" one of the boys called out.

"Thank you!" Sammy said. "Miss Lamarr, you're supposed to say, No, please, you villian! And you, Clark Gable-"

The whole courtyard burst into laughter. I vaguely knew Clark Gable was an old-timey actor, but I didn't know much else. Apparently, though, the idea that Flathead Rufus could be Clark Gable was hilarious to the kids.

"Mr. Gable-"

"No!" one of the girls cried. "Make him Gary Cooper."

More laughter. Rufus looked as if he were about to blow a valve. He balled his fists like he wanted to hit somebody, but he couldn't attack the entire school. He clearly hated being laughed at, but his slow little mind couldn't quite work out what Sammy was up to.

I nodded in appreciation. Sammy was like me. I had done the same kind of stuff to bullies for years.

"Right!" Sammy yelled imperiously. "Mr. Cooper, you say, Oh, but the diamond is mine, my treacherous darling! And then you scoop up the diamond like this!"

"Sammy, no!" Hazel protested, but Sammy snatched up the stone and slipped it into his pocket in one fluid motion.

He wheeled on Rufus. "I want emotion! I want the ladies in the audience swooning! Ladies, did Mr. Cooper make you swoon just now?"

"No," several of them called back.

"There, you see?" Sammy cried. "Now, from the top!" he yelled into his dunce cap. "Action!"

Rufus was just starting to get over his confusion. He stepped toward Sammy and said, "Valdez, I'm gonna-"

The bell rang. Kids swarmed the doors. Sammy pulled Hazel out of the way as the little ones- who acted like they were on Sammy's payroll -herded Rufus along with them so he was carried inside on a tide of kindergartners.

Soon Sammy and Hazel were alone- except for us, the ghosts, of course.

Sammy scooped up Hazel's smashed lunch, made a show of dusting off the canvas bag, and presented it to her with a deep bow, as if it were her crown. "Miss Lamarr."

Hazel from the past took her ruined lunch. She looked like she was about to cry, but I couldn't tell if it was from relief or misery or admiration. "Sammy. . . Rufus is going to kill you."

"Ah, he knows better than to tangle with me." Sammy plopped the dunce cap on top of his jockey cap. He stood up straight and stuck out his chest. The dunce cap fell off.

Hazel laughed. "You are ridiculous."

"Why, thank you, Miss Lamarr."

"You're welcome, my treacherous darling."

Sammy's smile wavered. The air became uncomfortably charged. Hazel stared at the ground. "You shouldn't have touched that diamond. It's dangerous."

"Ah, come on," Sammy said. "Not for me!"

Hazel studied him warily, like she wanted to believe it. "Bad things might happen. You shouldn't-"

"I won't sell it," Sammy said. "I promise! I'll keep it as a token of your flavor."

Hazel forced a smile. "I think you mean token of my favor."

"There you are! We should get going. It's time for our next scene: Hedy Lamarr nearly dies of boredom in English class."

Sammy held out his elbow like a gentleman, but Hazel pushed him away playfully. "Thanks for being there, Sammy."

"Miss Lamarr, I will always be there for you!" he said brightly. The two of them raced back into the schoolhouse.

I felt more like a ghost than ever.

Maybe I'd actually been an eidolon my whole life, because this kid should've been the real me. He was smarter, cooler, and funnier. He flirted so well with Hazel- there was no way I could ever be half as good as him when it came to that kind of stuff.

No wonder Hazel had looked at me so strangely when we first met. No wonder she had said Sammy with so much feeling.

But I wasn't Sammy, any more than Flathead Rufus was Clark Gable.

"Hazel," I said, my stomach feeling like lead. "I- I don't-"

The schoolyard dissolved into a different scene.

Hazel and I were still ghosts, but now we stood in front of a rundown house next to a drainage ditch overgrown with weeds. A clump of banana trees drooped in the yard. Perched on the steps, an old fashioned radio played conjunto music, and on the shaded porch, sitting in a rocking chair, a skinny old man gazed at the horizon.

"Where are we?" Hazel asked. She was still only vapor, but her voice was full of alarm. "This isn't from my life!"

I felt as if my ghostly self was thickening, becoming more real. This place seemed strangely familiar.

"It's Houston," I realized. "I know this view. That drainage ditch. . . This is my mom's old neighborhood, where she grow up. Hobby Airport is over that way."

"This is your life?" Hazel crowed. "I don't understand! How-?"

"You're asking me?" I demanded. "You're the ghostly expert on this-"

Suddenly the old man murmured, "Ah, Hazel. . ."

A shock went through my spine. The old man's eyes were still fixed on the horizon. How did he know we were here?

"I guess we ran out of time," he continued dreamily. "Well. . ."

He didn't finish his thought.

Hazel and I stayed very still. the old man made no further sign that he saw or heard us. It dawned on me that the guy had been talking to himself. But then why had he said Hazel's name?

He had leathery skin, curly white hair, and gnarled hands, like he'd spent a lifetime working in a machine shop. He wore a pale yellow shirt, spotless and clean, with gray slacks and suspenders and polished black shoes.

Despite his age, his eyes were sharp and clear. He sat with a kind of quiet dignity. He looked at peace- amused, even, like he was thinking, Dang, I lived this long? Cool!

I was pretty sure I'd never seen this man before.

So why did he seem familiar?

Then I realized the man was tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, but the tapping wasn't random. He was using Morse code, just like my mom used to do with me.

And the old man was tapping the same message over and over again: I love you.

The screen door opened, and a young woman came out. She wore jeans and a turquoise blouse. Her long curly hair was pulled in a braid down her back. She had well muscled arms and calloused hands. Like the old man's, her eyes glinted with amusement. In her arms was a baby, wrapped in a blue blanket.

I fell to my ghostly knees.

"Look, mijo," she said to the baby. "This is your bisabuelo. Bisabuelo, you want to hold him?"

When I heard her voice, a sob caught in my throat.

It was my mother. Younger than I remembered her, but very much alive. That meant the baby in her arms. . .

The old man broke into a huge grin. He had perfect teeth, as white as his hair. His face crinkled with smile lines. "A boy! Mi bebito, Leo!"

"Leo?" Hazel whispered. "That- that's you? What is bisabuelo?"

Nope. NOPE. Sorry, Hazel, Leo can't come to the phone right now he's too busy having a heart attack please leave a message after the beep.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down even though every part of me wanted to run and jump at her. My mom. She was so close. But I knew that in this misty form I was in mow. . . I would just go right through her.

The old man took baby me in his arms, chuckling with appreciation and tickling the baby's chin- and I finally realized what I was seeing.

Somehow Hazel's power to revisit the past had found the event that connected both of our lives- where my time line touched Hazel's.

This old man. . .

"Oh. . ." Hazel seemed to realize who we was at the same moment. Her voice became very small, on the verge of tears. "Oh, Sammy, no. . ."

"Ah, little Leo," said Sammy Valdez, aged well into his seventies. "You'll have to be my stunt double, eh? That's what they call it, I think. Tell her for me. I hoped I would be alive, but, ay, the curse won't have it!"

Hazel sobbed. "Gaea. . . Gaea told me that he died of a heart attack in the 1960s. But this isn't- this can't be. . ."

Sammy Valdez kept talking to the baby, while my mom, Esperanza, looked on with a pained smile- perhaps a little worried that my bisabuelo was rambling, a little sad that he was speaking nonsense.

"That lady, Dona Callida, she warned me." Sammy shook his head sadly. "She said Hazel's great danger would not happen in my lifetime. But I promised I would be there for her. You will have to tell her I'm sorry, Leo. Help her if you can."

"Bisabuelo," Esperanza murmured, "you must be tired."

She extended her arms to take the baby, but the old man cuddled him a moment longer. Baby Me seemed perfectly fine with it.

"Tell her I'm sorry I sold the diamond, eh?" Sammy said. "I broke my promise. When she disappeared in Alaska. . . ah, so long ago, I finally used that diamond, moved to Texas as I always dreamed. I started my machine shop. Started my family! It was a good life, but Hazel was right. The diamond came with a curse. I never saw her again."

"Oh, Sammy," Hazel said. "No, a curse didn't keep me away. I wanted to come back. I died!"

It was no use. The old man didn't seem to hear, and I knew why. We weren't real here; not tangible. Just ghosts in a memory.

Sammy smiled down at the baby and kissed him on the head. "I give you my blessing, Leo. First male great-grandchild! I have a feeling you are special, like Hazel was. You are more than a regular baby, eh? You will carry on for me. You will see her someday. Tell her hello for me."

"Bisabuelo," Esperanza said a little more urgently.

"Yes, yes," Sammy chuckled. "El viejo loco rambles on. I am tired, Esparanza. You are right. But I'll rest soon. Ir's been a good life. Raise him well, nieta."

The scene faded.

I was standing on the deck of the Argo II, holding Hazel's hand. The sun had gone down, and the sip was lit only by bronze lanterns. Hazel's eyes were puffy and reddened from crying, and my own chest felt hollow. And here I thought after all these years I was numb.

I looked up at the young girl in front of me, quietly trying to dry her eyes and steady her heartbeat.

"Hello, Hazel Levesque," I said, my voice gravelly. I doubted that I could feel any worse.

But remember, kiddies, the day isn't over yet, and Leo's Majestic Day of Misfortunes is just about to begin! Because in that moment, the person I wanted to see the absolute least at this moment stood in the doorway, mouth agape, brown eyes clouded with rage.

Frank motherfucking Zhang.