Free The Power of Un by Nancy Etchemendy

I’d just be more careful. I understand all the ideas—I even think some of them are fun. It’s like math is the most complicated puzzle ever invented—full of patterns and surprises and strange little things to discover. All the same, my math grades aren’t so hot. I’m always getting the wrong answers because I forget to carry a one, or I get distracted and say eight times seven is forty-two instead of fifty-six. I’m even worse when I’m under pressure. And I was definitely under pressure.
    I kept my eyes closed after I punched the red button this time, waiting for the smell of popcorn and the noise of the rides before I opened them again. Imagine my shock when I heard coughs and rustlingpapers instead, as a man’s voice intoned, “You may dunk the skins in water, pour ammonia onto them from this bottle, expose them to heat and moving air from the blow-dryer, squeeze lemon juice onto them, or devise an experiment of your own. All right now, let’s get started.”
    I opened my eyes and found myself seated in the school science lab, staring at Mr. Maynard. I glanced to my right, and there was Lorraine Frogner at my elbow, scribbling stuff in a notebook as fast as she could. The sun was shining through the windows as bright as could be, and the clock on the wall said 9:34. I had on the T-shirt I’d worn Friday—olive green with a picture of a werewolf—and my watch, which I knew I’d left at home, was on my wrist. My hands were completely empty. The unner was nowhere to be seen.
    I patted the pockets of my jeans. Nothing. I scooted my stool back and peered under the lab table. Nothing there except my red backpack and Rainy’s turquoise one. I grabbed mine, tugged open the zipper, and began to rummage through it. I was breathing hard and starting to sweat. Where could the unner be? Something had gone terribly wrong.
    “I think we should do the lemon juice,” said Rainy. “I hate the way ammonia smells.” She laid down her pen and gave me a look. “Uh … is everything all right?”
    Before I could consider the consequences, I foundmyself blurting in an angry voice, “Do I look like everything’s all right?”
    Rainy leaned back and curled her lip. “Sheesh, I’m sorry I asked.”
    I closed my eyes and tried to make my heart slow down to something resembling normal speed.
Panicking never helped anybody
, I told myself.
Think. What’s going on here
?
    If I was back in science class, then I’d unned a lot more time than I’d planned. But how much more?
    “What’s one thousand four hundred twenty-one divided by sixty?” I asked. My tongue made sticky noises because my mouth was so dry.
    “Oh right, just off the top of my head?” said Rainy.
    I opened my eyes, looked hard at her, and said, “I’m serious.”
    She frowned, picked up her pen again, and scratched a few figures in the margin of her notebook. “Twenty-three, with a remainder of forty-one.”
    So that was it. Somehow I’d messed up the math and ended up unning twenty-three hours and forty-one minutes instead of the twelve or thirteen hours I’d expected. I was back in the middle of Friday morning, about to relive the worst day of my life in its entirety. Which explained why I didn’t have the unner. The moment in which I currently found myself had happened before Rainy would phone to sayshe was sick, before I would run into the woods, and before I would meet the old man. I didn’t have the unner because the old man wouldn’t be giving it to me until later that afternoon.
    I scratched absently at the tip of my nose, where I expected to feel the fresh scab from the scrape I’d gotten when I tripped and lost the unner in the woods. But my nose was completely smooth. The thought of knowing, among other things, that I was going to fall down and hurt myself later that day made me woozy.
    “Cripes,” I muttered, wishing I could lie down someplace. “Cripes!”
    “What is
wrong
with you?” asked Rainy.
    “Uh …” I said. “Uh