This is not happening.

This is not possible.

I don't know how long I've been standing here, in the strange bathroom, in front of the mirror.

No way. No fucking way.

I try blinking my eyes but the image doesn't change. It's still him. It's still... Justin. And boy, was Dad young once. I've seen pictures but I never imagined... He was very young. How old am I? Is he, I mean? So many questions.

I press my hands against my stomach. Whoa. Rock hard abs. I used to the fat I feel on my own stomach, from too much beer and soda. God, he was in good shape. I flex my left arm and feel my bicep with my right hand. Wow. He probably can do 100 push ups without stopping. Could I be this buff if I tried? If I never fired the personal trainer? It didn't seem possible.

The hair. I run my fingers through the curls. I thought my dad hated this curly hair but here it is, growing out into a wild afro, the kind that nobody wears anymore. The hair is softer than it looks. For a second I wish my hair was more curly than wiry and wavy.

Then reality hits me again. Holy shit, this is me. I drop my hands from my hair. This is not me but somehow I'm here. My heart--his heart-- is beating so fast. I have no idea what to do.

Maybe this is some new VR game that I signed up to test and I forgot about. I look around for cameras or something. This has to be a joke. It has to be... in my mind.

I'm crazy.

Maybe I'm in a coma or something. Trapped in a dream world. It's possible, right?

I can't find an explanation. But I have to find one fast. Because I have to get out of here! There's no way I can stay. I can't pretend... I have to figure out what's going on. This is not me and it's not right!

I glance up along the walls of the bathroom. On one side there are stalls and urinals and on the other side a large window but it's awfully high. I would have to get a chair or something to reach. I move towards the door. The image in the mirror moves too. I pause and stare in the mirror again. I just can't believe this. It isn't possible!

"Justin?" The door opens. JC peeks inside. He has the same eyes, the baggy skin underneath them, but he seems so much more energetic, if that's even possible. "Staring at yourself in the mirror, huh? Yeah, yeah, we all know you're cute."

"Where are we?" I ask.

"The studio," JC doesn't skip a beat. "I'm getting sick of it too."

"Uncle--" I stop myself. "JC. I don't know what's going on."

"We're going down to Jive to do our showcase." JC rolls his eyes. "Such a huge waste of time. We already released the single. I'm getting sick of these formalities."

"But..." I stammer.

"I know, I know." JC waves a tired hand. "We have to deal with the bureaucracy so we can make our beautiful music. Or something like that. I know, everyone's telling me that. I just wish... we could just focus on our thing and they would focus on theirs. You know?"

"JC!" I am scared to say it, but I have to. "JC... I can't do a showcase."

"No, it's cool!" JC says. "We'll just sing the songs... it's no big deal. We don't have to take a stand, Justin. It'll be over in like 30 minutes or something. We don't have to be difficult. Let's go."

"No, you don't understand." I say desperately.

"Let's just go Justin." JC grabs my arm and pulls me out of the bathroom. Oh god, what is this showcase? What are they talking about? How can I get out of this?

So if I really am somehow my father... what do I know? I rack my brain. Maybe there's something... from his memories. Oh please. I get nothing. There's nothing there. There's just me. No Justin. Just me and that's horrible. I stumble behind JC and we get in this big old-fashioned van.

"They don't make them like this anymore," I say before I think, looking around the van.

Luckily everyone ignores me. I already have a feeling they are used to ignoring Dad. I use this time to think. I have to know what Dad knows. He knows the songs and the dances and what's going on. It just has to be in there somewhere, it just has to be. My head hurts I'm thinking so hard, so wildly.

Dad, I need you!

I'm surprised when I think that. I don't often need my dad. I don't need anyone.

But now, in this strange time, in this strange body-- though it's not entirely strange-- I just feel so alone.

"So where's Chris?" Joey asks after a few moments of silence in the van.

"He's gonna meet us there, what else is new?" Lance says. "I don't know what he's always doing that's so important."

"Okay, so while we're there," JC says. He's driving. Using his hands and pumping the brakes and the gas. It's so strange. I lean back in my seat and look at my hands. God, I can't get over this. His palms are so pale. Justin's... my dad's... me. I can see his veins through the skin, purple and blue, oh goodness. So delicate. I have never thought of my father as fragile before. JC is still talking. "We can get a plan. We can finally have a plan and move on and do the show and--"

"Yeah, okay, JC!" Joey interrupts. "I don't really want to think about the work right now."

"But why do we have to impress them?" JC continues. "I just don't understand this whole showcase thing."

"Because it's a new record label and they want to make sure they know how to market us properly." Lance says sensibly.

"What other way is there to market us!" JC laughs strangely and slaps his palms against the steering wheel.

"What are we about to do?" I say quietly. I can't sing this song, whatever song it is. I can't do the dance, whatever dance it is. I can't, I can't. I try looking, I try thinking. The memories, they simply aren't there. Nobody's answering my question. I realize they all ignore my dad half of the time. So I scream, "WHAT ARE WE ABOUT TO DO?!"

Nobody is talking now. Lance and Joey are staring at me. The only reason JC isn't is because he's driving the car.

"Calm down, Justin, Jeez," Joey says.

"We're doing the showcase," Lance says with less attitude. "We're going to sing two songs... Bye Bye Bye and It's Gonna Be Me."

Oh, no. Worse than I thought. Two songs. Even if I could remember the lyrics, the melody, there's no way I could remember those dance moves. I haven't seen more than one music video of his in my whole life. I can't do this. What am I supposed to do?

"I don't feel good," I groan, and it's true. I'm sick to my stomach with worry and confusion and I'm just overwhelmed with everything. I blurt out, "What day is it? What year is it? Where am I?"

"Okay, don't go overboard with this, Justin." JC is turning. He's pulling into a parking lot. He's parking in front of a nondescript building. There's nothing special about it. It's just strange and ordinary and my heart is bursting, I'm so freaked out, I feel like I'm on the edge of dying. "We don't have time for your melodrama. We have to get this over it."

"And look, this is coming from JC, the one who was complaining about this more than you!" Joey points out. "If he can do it, you can do it."

"No, you don't understand." I'm about to have a fit. I feel the emotions rising up in me, like helium filling one of those old fashioned balloons. I was in a major car accident 15 minutes ago. Now I'm trapped in my father's body? In the past? No way, it makes no sense, no way, no way, no way. I don't believe it. I refuse. I won't do this. It's not... right. It's not... my life. This isn't possible. I want out!

"You don't understand!" I screech. "You don't understand, I can't do this. I can't! Let me out of here, let me out! Please, let me out of here! Please! Uncle Joey, Uncle JC... Uncle Lance, please stop doing this. LET ME OUT!" I pull on the door. It's such a strange door that you have to slide to get the van open. Why did it have to be this way? It makes no sense for the door to slide open. I don't know how to work it. I punch the metal, pound my fists against the window. Maybe I'm dead. Maybe I'm dead and this is my hell. I have to live my life like my father. As my father. The last thing I would want in the whole entire world. Oh please, someone get me out of this.

"Justin." Now Lance is looking concerned. He touches my arm and I pull away.

"I don't belong here!" I tell them all, I scream into the stunned silence of the car. "My name is not Justin. That's my father's name. My name is Jez!"

Finally, I get the door to pop open. It slides at a fast speed and catches at the end. I expect the door to slide right off the hinges but it stops and I am out the door.

"What the hell?" Joey screams after me.

"JUSTIN!" Lance shouts. "Justin! Come back!"

"Justin!" JC echoes. "Justin!"

But I am gone. I am running, through the parking lot, behind the strip mall down the alley, out into some trees that look like one of the last hopes of civilization. I don't care. I have no idea where I am except in some industrial waste land. They are going to tear these trees and this land down, I bet. For more strip malls. The grass is low and sparse. There's a road, but not too many cars are on. I stay away from the road anyway. I don't want anyone to find me. Maybe if I run fast enough, I'll hurtle myself back in the future. Maybe I should get hit by a car. That's an idea. That might get me back to where I'm supposed to be, into my own body. Or maybe I would just die. For real this time. And God knows that might be better.

Maybe I'm already dead.

I run. Faster than I ever had. But everything is easier in Justin's body, well, running anyway. He's fit, he's in shape. I can feel his lungs expanding and contracting, I can feel his heart beating steadily as I run and run, run away from all of this. Can anyone tell me what's going on? Isn't someone going to jump out of the bushes and say, hey! This is a joke. You're on VR Alternate Reality! I hate that show so much. They mess with people's heads and it's not fair.

Or maybe I'll wake up from my coma. Maybe the devil is going to show up. I don't care what happens. Just something that would explain this to me. Please.

I'm still running, but even my father gets tired sometimes. I slow down as I come out between a couple of buildings and see a busy road and a bunch of shops and people are all around. I look behind me. Nobody seems to be coming after me. Well, that's just as well. I guess they don't like my father as much as I believed his bandmates liked him. Not that I want them to come after me. I don't know what I'm doing. I put my hands on my head, raise my arms and take some slow deep breaths so my heart will stop racing so fast. I walk onto the sidewalk. It's concrete, cracked, so plebeian , so old fashioned. A concrete sidewalk. The cars passing on the road use gas. It's hard to imagine. They are the reason the Ozone is so depleted and we have to hide from the electrical storms at school sometimes. I don't understand why they are using gas. Surely someone knows now that they've got to change it. If the emission standards didn't change in 2011, I'm sure the earth would be done by now. Well... by the time I used to be in. By 2025.

What day is it? Where am I? I do not know these basic things. The only thing they told me was that we were in a studio and then we were in a van and parking lot, but where are these places. For all I know, I might not even be on planet earth right now. I just assumed that one.

Oh my god! Maybe I'm in alternate reality on another planet. There are so many possibilities. I feel something hard clang against my collarbone. It's that stupid necklace with my father's initials. Why did he have to be so tacky? In some ways, it's very good that I'm nothing like him. I feel like ripping off the necklace and throwing it in the street. All of a sudden I am so angry. I kick a trashcan. People stare. I walk off quickly. I have no plan, no destination, no goal. Well, I have a goal, but how can I achieve it? All I want to do is go back to my own body. I can't handle this!
I run a hand over my face and stop when I spot a newsstand ahead. It's just a booth filled with magazine and newspapers and candy with a smiling Spanish looking middle aged man in the middle of it all. This is an idea. This is a place I can go. I can find out what day it is at least.

I pat myself down. I have no idea what my dad has on him but in his back pocket I find a wallet. I pull out the light leather and open it slowly. On top, I see his driver's license. He looks so ordinary in his picture, so plain. They don't make licenses like that anymore. He looked like a young guy in the photo, even younger than he looked when I looked in the mirror. Somewhere near the bottom of the ID are thick red letters that say UNDER 21 UNTIL 01/31/2002

If it were 2002, I could drink right now. That would be one saving grace to this horrible situation.

He also has three credit cards in his waller that all say Justin R Timberlake. In the pocket there are two neatly folded five dollar bills and a smattering of change. That will be enough I think. I step up to the newsstand . The man smiles at me.

"Uh... a newspaper," I stammer. It's so strange to be using Justin's voice. He has a high voice, even higher when he is younger.

"That'll be a dollar," The man says, like this is an everyday thing. I hand over one of the fives. He hands back four ones. This is such an everyday thing, yet in Justin's body it is so strange. I look down at his long fingers curling around the money. I slip the money back in the wallet, the wallet in my jeans. Then I grab the newspaper and walk a little ways away before I take a look at it.

Orlando Sentinal, the title reads. March 1st 2000.

2000. I can hardly comprehend it. The year 2000. My father, Justin, he's just 19, just one year older than me. March 1st 2000. That's all it is. Three flat, hard zeros, marching in a row. 2000. That's where I am. I'm in Orlando, Florida in the year 2000.

How is this possible?

I scan the front page. Nothing is familiar. I clutch the newspaper, hold it close to my chest like it is a anchor and the only thing that is keeping me tethered to this earth. I walk blindly down the street, eyes down or eyes forward... I don't know. I see but I'm not really registering anything. This isn't real. It can't be. I feel like falling down, just collapsing , in the sun and among the dirt. Just lying there and then maybe I'll scream or cry or thrash about. I'm so confused. I'm so scared. I don't know what to do and there's no one to help me. There's absolutely no one to help me. I trip over a crack in the sidewalk and regain my balance quickly. Too bad. That might have been the perfect opportunity for me to crack my head open.

"Oh my god!" I hear someone scream. It's a female, probably a teenager. She sounds like she might be in danger. She is certainly riled up. Maybe there are scary creatures in this time that nobody told me about. I turn sharply and look around but I don't see anything. When I glance back forward, two girls are staring right at me.

"It's you! It's really you!" One of them says. They are 14 or 15, cute in that way that means they will be pretty hot in a couple of years when puberty fully blossoms. There were plenty of those kinds of girls at my third prep school, not so much at the fourth one. There everyone was ugly and plain, so I fit in just fine.

"I can't believe it! Justin!" The other girls squeals, holding onto her friends hand.

Oh yes. My father was famous in 2000. I think. What am I supposed to do?

"Hi," I say lamely.

The girls fall over themselves squealing and laughing and jumping and spazzing out. I am sort of disgusted and it makes me feel kind of dirty and I sort of want to get away.

"I have loved you forever. I have loved you. I have loved you!" One squeals.

"Before the Disney special, we always had your CD and everything!" The other one screeches. How am I supposed to get away?

"Can we take a picture with you Justin, we love you!" They seem to both shout this. I have no fight in me. Where am I supposed to go anyway? At least they seem to like me. Not too many people like me. Well, they like my dad at least but right now my dad is me so by default, they like me.

"Sure," I say.

The girls scream and jump up and down. Then they produce a camera and take turns posing with their arms wrapped around my waist, grinning and drooling like a couple of short bus cases. I just stand there and even after the girls have taken the pictures they won't go away. They continue talking and chatter and squealing and then out of the corner of my eye I see a couple more people approaching me and in the back of my mind I know this can get bad.

Fast.

"Justin!" Someone new saying my name. I turn towards the voice quickly and I almost lose my breath. "Get in!"

I don't hesitate. I step away from the growing group of girls and pull the car door open and get inside.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Uncle Chris says. Uncle Chris! I stare.

"What is the matter with you?" He asks. I can't help it. I haven't seen Uncle Chris since the funeral and... I don't like to think about him like that. I touch his arm. Wow.

But this is the year 2000. Of course he's still alive. And it's so good to see him. I can't speak.

"Justin, have you gone mute? Are you deaf? Do you have a brain disease? What is the matter with you?"

Chris takes off and girls run after the car like it's made of gold but we lose them quickly.

"Explain please. I'm sick of having this one sided conversation!"

I shake my head. Everything is rising up at once. All these feelings. I am so scared. And I'm so overwhelmed. I just want to go home. I want it to be the way it used to be!

But then I don't. I don't really want to go back there. When I look at Chris I see someone who cares about me. Well, who cares about my dad. Who cares about Justin. And lots of people do. Strangers even. They looked at me the same way. Like they cherished me even though I didn't even know their first name. And I realized that throughout my whole life, I've always felt so lonely. I can't remember a time when I felt truly loved. And that's what Justin has, right here, his whole life!

I've always been alone.

Chris puts his hand on my leg and that startles me. And then I throw my arms around him. I can't help it. I'm crying. I'm sobbing. I'm snorting and sniffling and gulping and gasping like a child, just crying my brains out and I don't know why and I have a million reasons. Chris is steadily petting my hair and driving with one hand. I feel free to cry. He doesn't even try to stop me.

"What's going on?" Chris says quietly. How can I even begin to explain myself?

"I'm sick," I finally choke out.

"Yeah, sick." Chris stops at a red light. "Sick in the head. Buckle your seatbelt."

I sit up. I can't remember the last time I cried like that. I look around for the ancient seatbelt and pull it around me. I wipe my eyes that are not my eyes. I feel the dampness on my cheeks which aren't my cheeks. The nose that isn't my nose is stuffy and full.

"Chris," I look over to him and sneeze. I start over. "Chris... I can't do that showcase."

"Yeah, pretty much figured that out."

"I can't... I just..." I trail off.

"Justin, they were saying you were going crazy back there. Screaming and freaking out and saying... you're some other person. And now you're freaking out with me?" Chris looks at me hard, seriously. "Are you on drugs? Do you need some?"

I think I should laugh. I just hiccup. I've got the hiccups now, holy hell.

"Can I..." I have to pause as my diaphragm spazzes. "Just go home?"

"Well, where else are we gonna go? You ruined the showcase."

I am relieved. I try to hold my breath.

"We'll try to get this all straightened out I guess." Chris says. "I'll give them a call and I'll tell them you're okay. Or I found you at least."

I nod and hiccup. I don't know what to say. Then Chris is looking at me. He's waiting.

"You are..." He asks. "Okay, right?"

That's when I realize that the only person who can get me out of this situation is myself. Nobody else. Whatever happened to me happened solely to me. Nobody else knows. They don't know anything is different. Telling the others won't help. They will never believe me. I have to figure this out on my own. And until then the only way to be normal is to be my dad.

I have to be Justin Timberlake.

So I look over at Chris. I suppress my chest spasms. I smile.

"Sorry, it's been a long day," I say truthfully. Then I lie. "But I'm okay. I'm gonna be fine."

Chris takes a sharp turn onto an entrance ramp on the highway. He presses the gas and we speed faster and faster, onto the highway, down the road and I feel like I'm traveling wildly to a very different place.