Jim & Me by Dan Gutman

own thing.”
    I don’t need Bobby Fuller , I thought to myself as I walked down the hall to class. Bringing him along only makes things more complicated anyway. I’lljust do it on my own. He can do his thing and I’ll do mine.
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    Every time I go back in time, Mom and Uncle Wilbur act like they’re sending me off to sleepaway camp. Mom was running around putting snacks, Band-Aids, an umbrella, and other stuff in a suitcase for me to take. No way was I taking a suitcase with me to 1912.
    Uncle Wilbur dug up some of his old clothes, which he saved from back when he was my age. He grew up after 1912, but he insisted that his clothes would still look current because men’s fashions don’t change that much from year to year. He pulled out a white button-down shirt, suspenders, a brown hat with a tiny little brim, and a pair of gray pants that stopped at knee level. Then he gave me a pair of socks that went all the way up to the bottom of the pants. They looked ridiculous, but I put the stuff on anyway.
    â€œYou look like a million bucks,” Uncle Wilbur told me.
    Besides the baseball card, there was only one thing I wanted to bring along with me—the newspaper article I had copied at the library about Jim losing his medals. If I could prove to him that competing in the Olympics would ruin his life, it might help him to make up his mind.
    Everything was ready. I patted my pocket to make sure I had the Colgan’s card and a new packof cards to bring me back home. Uncle Wilbur wished me good luck and went upstairs to bed. Mom gave me a hug and told me to be careful (for the hundredth time). I sat on the couch and got myself ready.
    That’s when the doorbell rang. Mom went to get it so I wouldn’t have to explain why I was dressed so oddly. I was more than a little surprised when she came back into the living room with Bobby Fuller.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked.
    â€œJoey, is that any way to talk to your friend?” Mom said.
    â€œMom!” I shouted, shooing her upstairs.
    â€œI changed my mind,” Bobby told me. “I want to go too.”
    Maybe it would be good if Bobby came along, I tried to convince myself. If I got into a jam, he might be able to bail me out. After all, he did save my life when that wrecking ball almost creamed me the first time.
    â€œOkay, put these duds on,” I told Bobby.
    â€œAre you kidding me?” Bobby said. “Suspenders are for clowns. You look like you should be in the circus, Stoshack.”
    â€œYou want to blend in when we get there, don’t you?” I told him. “You don’t want to look like some freak.”
    â€œAll right, all right,” Bobby agreed. “But I gotta bring my backpack with me.”
    â€œWhat do you have in there, anyway?” I asked.
    â€œI told you, my meds,” he replied. “That, and my iPod.”
    â€œYou’re bringing an iPod?!”
    I couldn’t believe it. If the people in 1912 saw an iPod, they’d probably spaz out, call the cops, and have us thrown in jail.
    â€œA man’s gotta have his tunes,” Bobby explained.
    I could have argued. You can argue about anything. But then you find yourself arguing all the time. If he wanted to bring an iPod with him, that was his business.
    Bobby went into the bathroom and came out wearing Uncle Wilbur’s clothes. They were a little small on him, but he didn’t look that bad. He actually looked more like a regular kid.
    We sat on the couch. I took a few deep breaths to relax, and held out my right hand. This time, Bobby took it without complaining.
    â€œReady?” I asked.
    â€œLet’s blow this pop stand,” he said.
    I dipped my other hand in my pocket and took out the Colgan’s card. I needed to tap the plastic sleeve against the coffee table to make the card slip out.
    The tingling sensation didn’t come immediately. Sometimes it takes a while. I have to