"You're It."

I look down at my feet, and suddenly the smell of the air changes.  It confuses me for a moment, but when I see the carpet, I understand.  This is Lake Pointe Church.  I raise my head again, and slowly keep on walking.
When the hallway ends, there's a corner, which leads me to another one.  But when I round the bend, I gasp, almost choking on the air, as some kid dashes right into me.
But he doesn't.  He goes right through.
Ah, I am a ghost.
Laughing like an idiot, the fifth-grader darts down the hall I just exited, without noticing my existence.  I face the new hall again, the cream-colored walls on either side making me feel a strange sensation in my chest.  I know this place so well.
My fingers find the wall, and I watch them glide across the rough surface as I keep walking.  Two brown doors stand before me, and I know exactly what lies behind.
A sudden bang against the door startles me.  Then, after a second, it opens.  Slowly at first, then it picks up speed.  Some other goon takes off through the door, and I slip through it before it closes.  The boy looks familiar though.  Brown, messy hair.  Dark skin and glasses.  That's Bayley, I think.  However, he's now at the opposite side of the door from me.
My face breaks into a smile when I take in my new surroundings.  Actually, anything but new.  This room is one of the places I found myself.  I've been here a million times.
Tables dot the floor, and chairs are scattered around hopelessly.  The kid in front of me is the reason why.  Jordan.  He thinks that, during a game of tag, if one throws a chair behind oneself, it will stop the other person from tagging you.  It usually works I suppose, but never on me.  I always jumped the chairs.
But Luke doesn't.  I watch as the shaggy-haired kid trips on the chair, falling over clumsily, and knocking over a small black trash can on the way down.  Jordan shrieks with laughter as he leaves the room, causing my grin to spread even more.
"Jordan," I remember having asked him a billion times, "has anyone ever told you you scream like a girl?"
And he did it on purpose.
I almost let out a laugh when I see Luke on the ground again, but my voice is caught off by...
My own voice?
I whirl around, and twelve-year-old Emily bursts into gleeful laughter, clutching her side.
"Are you alright?" she asks Luke, who gets up and starts picking up pieces of trash off the floor.
Oooh, that buck tooth.  So glad I got braces.
"Yeah, I'm fine," replies Luke, trying not to laugh.
I hear another giggle from the corner of the room, and I look to see little Jillian.  Oh, sweet little Jillian Johnson.  My only friend in Surge, basically...  She was better than the other girls.
But Luke's still it.
"Come on Emily," I whisper, though she wouldn't hear me anyway.  "Run.  Don't you know how good Luke is at this game?"
She knows.
As Luke regains his composure, he walks towards her, and she nonchalantly backs away, still talking. "Okay, Jillian," tiny Emily says, "run.  Hurry."
Jillian makes the smart move and gets out of that place.  Soon, there is only a table between Emily and the "it."  I feel like an idiot, but my own heart pounds as I watch the intense game fall into place.
Emily taunts the goon.
"Whatcha gonna do?" she asks.  "Jump the table?"
Well, yes.
In one quick movement, Luke's feet are off the ground, and he's soaring majestically through the air.
Until he's not.
His legs hit the table with a thud, and Emily speeds out of the room, laughing till I know her gut hurts.
I quickly follow her into the main room of the youth group, and a ton of familiar faces greet me.  Well, not exactly, because I'm unseen, but you get the picture.  I notice for the first time all the judgmental looks Emily gets from the popular girls as she flies through the room.  But I don't care, and neither did she.  She was having fun.
There was Hannah, at one table with a few other girls.  I chuckle a bit, knowing that we had known each other since first grade, but never talked till sixth.  I wonder if this was the stage she thought I was prissy, or the stage she thought I was a nerd...
Emily's wearing her Flash shirt.  I assume this was the nerd stage.
Well, Hannah was right.
By Hannah's side is Charla.  I've known her forever as well, but again, sixth grade was the only time we talked.  As she would admit to me years later, she too thought I was a nerd.  Again, quite correct.  She chats and giggles with Hannah.  I'm pretty sure she just pretended I didn't exist for a while.  Don't blame her.
Emily's tangled, stringy brown hair trails behind her, and I put my head in my hands.  Wow.  I didn't need to revisit fifth-grade Emily.  She wears boys' basketball shorts because all the rest are too exposing of the skin, and she doesn't use lotion.  Well, if I had to be someone in fifth grade, I guess I'm glad it was her.
Luke reenters the room, this time with curly-haired Collin at his side.  Oooh, Collin.  That kid definitely enjoyed spiting me.  We had a frenemy friendship.  Although, maybe mostly enemy... But it was fun to smack him in a game of tag, I'll give you that.
Emily hides behind a few normal people, but soon she catches a glimpse of Collin pointing her out to Luke.  Luke, who must still be it (cheating idiot, he always had some sort of an alliance with Collin), takes off in my direction.  She doesn't make it out of the room in time.  Too many people in the way.
Now she's up against Luke, the boss at tag, who is a master at tagging you back the minute you tag him.
But she hasn't been tagged yet.  With a quick motion, Luke's arm flings forward, and Emily jumps backwards, just barely missing the swipe.  As soon as her feet touch the ground again, she's off.  Gone like the wind.
One word: #skill.
As Luke and Collin follow, I can't help but wonder; what would Emily think if she saw me now?  Twelve to fifteen.  And dang, things have changed like crazy.  Would she be proud of me?  Would she be mortified?  Would she laugh?  Would she be amazed?
There's no way to know.  Well, maybe.  Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could get her attention.
The trip back to fifth grade was fun, but I don't talk to her.  Miss Angela (one of my favorite people) calls everyone to come sit down for the lesson, and I take that as my cue to head out.  Emily's about to hit a hard part of her life, and once she thinks she's okay again, something worse will happen.  Something so much worse.  But the end will be beautiful.
She'll figure it out.  She's got this.  I believe in her, even though she doesn't believe in herself (Paradox, anyone?).
I open my eyes, and I'm at my desk again. 12:32 a.m.

Yeah, she'll figure it out.