Benji heard his sister’s door close softly behind her when she entered her bedroom. It wasn’t very late, maybe nine o’clock. He glanced at the digital clock now resting on his nightstand and confirmed the time. Sarah went to bed early and woke early so it wasn’t unusual that she was already going to sleep. Benji, on the other hand, wanted to stay up a few more hours and finish his decorating. He hadn’t been sleeping well anyway, plagued with unquiet dreams.
He hung up a World War II era fighter plane from a hook in his ceiling. It was cool that his Aunt Rachel was letting them do whatever they wanted to their rooms. Benji liked the eclectic mess that his room was becoming. The clutter made him feel at home. It was cozy and felt warm to him, like a secret hideout more than a regular bedroom.
His desk was old and scarred, but massive. He sat back down in the rolling chair next to it and pulled a brass lamp from a box on the floor. This was one of the things he’d wanted the polish for. It was dirty, nearly black, and the green shade was covered in dust. He wiped the dust off before prying open the polish tin and dipping the rag in. Unsure of exactly how to clean the metal base, he started rubbing arbitrarily with the polish.
A circle of brass appeared beneath his machinations, but it seemed almost too bright. As a matter of fact the whole lamp seemed brighter all of a sudden. It was hot, too. So hot, that Benji dropped it with a clatter on the desktop. It rolled to its side and Benji looked on in shock as a gold flash erupted from the lamp. He shielded his eyes from the bright light and saw spots of white when he finally lowered his arms.
Benji gaped. Standing on the other side of his desk was a boy dressed in a button down shirt and tweed trousers. He had thick horn-rimmed glasses and hair that had been gelled down into a severe central part. And he was blue. Sparkly blue. A sparkly blue teenager.
The boy cleared his throat and looked at Benji. “Do you mind telling me the year?”