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*N SYNC
"Oh, please, Joey. No woman is that stupid."
"Stupid? Hey, they just know how my magnitism effects them, that's all," the redhead smoothed his goattee out a bit.
Lance looked over, "It reverses polarity?"
Joey scowled at him. Chris just laughed from his spot in front of the TV. "Man," the dreded man's face was a huge grin, "Lance summed it all up."
"You," Joey pointed at Chris, "better sleep with one eye open."
"Idle threats, idle threats," the older man turned back to his video game. "Now, me, on the other- ooof!"
"Right on target," Lance commented cooly, kicking the pillow back to Joey.
"Arg! The both of you! Now I died..." Chris looked up sorrowfully at his game.
Joey and Lance exchanged grins.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The horse leaped and soared over the fallen tree, its rider letting out a grunt as he absorbed the shock of landing. The steed ran on, rider digging his heels into the creature's side. Across a stretch of trees, another horse and rider pushed on, keeping speed with the first. In almost no time, both were running side by side. In time, there were four horses, each snorting with the weight of their riders.
They reached a clearing, racing across it and kicking up a dust cloud that drifted high into the air. They kept going, pushing the animals, making them give 110%.
They jumped a high gate, coming down all stomping hooves. A distinct click of a tounge sounded, and the horses stopped so abruptly that one of the riders did a flip over the animal's head, landing hard in the dirt. A deep, throaty laugh rang out, followed by three other higher-pitched ones. Joey rubbed his sore behind.
"That hurt."
"What you get for not holding on," Lance took the older man's horse and tied it to the gate. He then turned and motioned to the others, "You come inside and get ready. We got a concert at five." He looked down at the redhead. "As for you," he helped his friend up, "falling on your butt never hurt anyone. C'mon, we got donuts."
Joey perked up and happily followed the blonde inside.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Lance rubbed a hand through his brown hair, unbelieving. She'd done it, she'd really done it. It was against all laws of physics, time, and plain sence, but here he was. The streets were less crowded, children played ball aginst grafitti-covered buildings, and the Motown beat of BoyzIIMen floated up to his ears. His shocked expression was obvious to anyone, especially the light-haired woman in front of him.
"Are you not pleased, James? Is this not what you wanted? A life before the tabloids, the media... N SYNC?" She idily tossed her hair over her shoulder, "You have gotten your wish, now I can no longer be of service to you."
"No, wait!" But his calls fell on deaf ears, the woman was gone. The pale boy sighed and looked down at himself. The same clothes he was wearing, only it wasn't the clothes, it was him. He had gotten shorter. Realization dawned. If it was indeed 1989, he would only be... Oh, God! He thought, I'm 14 again!
- - - -
Damnit, damnit, damnit... Why couldn't I just keep my big mouth shut?! He kicked a random pebble down the street. He needed better clothes, a place to stay... But first, he needed to find out just what was going on. Although he'd lived through 1989, he didn't remember every little detail of importance. The past few years that he was with N SYNC blurred the rest of his life into a small insignifigant blub.
Okay, facts... You're in Florida. Check. It's 1989. Oh yeah. You're 14. Duh. You need to find the guys. No brainer. Your family is still back in Mississippi. Oh damn. Lance looked around, trying to spot a payphone. Finding one on the end of the street, he walked twords it in no real hurry. He was thinking anyhow, and he couldn't run and be deep in thought at the same time. He wondered if the woman had just plopped him there, or if his family existed in the messed up world he was thrown into.
Reaching the payphone, he dug into his pocket and pulled out 25 cents. Sweet. He dailed the number, praying the phone would ignore that fact that the call was out of state. It rang, and he silently thanked God.
"Hello?"
He regarded the voice with curiosity, "Um, I think I may have the wrong number. Who am I speaking to?"
"James Bass," the deep, but still young voice answered.
Lance hung up the phone quickly, then leaned back against the wall. Awww, Hell.