In the morning, Callan woke up furious and with headaches. All kind of obscenities were coming in his mind at every slightest movement but he regretted nothing. Finally, he had both progress and closure for his feelings.
The evening had turned out to be ridiculous. Lisa hadn't wanted to go with him at first because Steven was sitting next to her, but when she saw the Volvo, she changed her mind. Steven had left, promising Callan to beat the living shit out of him.
Over dinner, the girl had listened to Callan's father's stories about his adventures in Russia with a dropped jaw, followed every half-successful joke with prompt giggles and secretly looked at his mom to make sure she wasn't jealous. Mother had barely controlled laughter, Callan – anger.
Feeling jealous and abandoned, he drank a lot and talked little.
Around the midnight, Lisa's mother had called and demanded that her daughter return home immediately. Then Callan had rapidly finished his drink and stood up to go. Mother called him to the kitchen.
"That's if you happen to encounter cops," she pushed into Callan's hand five twenty pound notes.
He stopped the car a little before Lisa's house and they moved to the back seat. In the semi-darkness, the girl looked very beautiful. Callan hugged and kissed her.
For the first time, the two of them were completely alone together. Before that, they had kissed at Lisa's house in the stairwell, school wardrobe or park. Callan's hand gradually slid lower but Lisa pulled back.
"I'm sorry," Callan whispered, "but I really like you, Lisa. I wouldn't hurt you or do anything bad to you. I think I'm in love with you. For two years, I've only been thinking about you, you've probably noticed... You know I'm willing to do anything for you... Say, please, are you willing to be my girlfriend, understand, just mine..."
Holding his breath, he had waited for the girl's response.
Lisa laughed, kissed Callan, smoothly slipped from her seat, and, kneeling on the floor of the car, began to open the front of Callan's trousers. Before he could comprehend what is happening, maybe in Lisa's opinion this was the best answer to his speech, the girl had already settled between Callan's legs. "Oh my gosh, you don't know anything yet," she whispered and laughed again.
Now, remembering this, Callan became ill.
For two years he had adored Lisa, considered unattainable, now this creature had become his first woman, as he had secretly hoped but even in his wildest dreams he had not imagined it would happen like this.
Callan shuddered and stood up. He decided to skip the school today, to have a chat with mom instead. Then he remembered the parents went shopping and that would mean he will see them in the late evening only as such outings usually ended up with a date night in a pub.
Callan went to the kitchen. On the table, there was a note: 'We'll be late. Don't wait. I left you a tenner as it looks like there were cops on the road yesterday.'
"Hilarious," the boy huffed.
Callan had pushed the money into Lisa's hand and opened the car door for her in silence. She had got out of the car without a word, kicked the door with her foot and ran off.
"Such a theatre," the teenager sneered. "She took the money anyway."
At an accelerated speed, he had driven home and only at the gate he noticed that the front of his trousers was still open.
Callan chuckled. There was a lot of amusing about the event too, but he wanted to have a drink so he could feel like a grown man rather than a raped teenager. Until now, Callan had only drunk wine, liqueur or champagne. This time, he opted for neat whiskey, threw a couple of pieces of ice into a glass, and leaned back into his father's favourite chair. After drinking the first glass and admitting that the taste was not so bad, Callan rose to go after another one, when a young man came out of the wall that separated Callan's room from his father's office, dressed in a costume reminiscent of movies about the Middle Ages, and proudly strutted towards him. Callan squeezed his eyes tightly closed, hoping that whiskey was to blame for everything, but when he opened them again, the newcomer still stood in the middle of the room, nobly indifferent and calm. Callan looked into the stranger's face and lost consciousness.
The boy came to his senses from the whiskey that was poured into his mouth.
"It was horrible," Callan murmured, "to see yourself appearing from the wall and in such a terrible costume." Callan raised his head and spit out the drink.
His second self was still right there, fun sparkled in his grey eyes, his hand carelessly resting on his sword, his dark blue cloak partially concealed a brown costume with an unimaginable amount of strings, and his leather high-heeled boots with spurs caused Callan amazement and envy. He hadn't seen anything like it in any store.
"Are you my dad's extramarital son, whom he's dressed up as a clown to hide the family's disgrace?" Callan asked brashly, trying to hide the fear he felt looking at an intruder who looked just like his twin. The stranger smiled.
"I am Conan, son of Sir Malcolm from Danvegen. My father is the leader of the McLaughlin's clan. During this time our arch-enemies, the Campbells, are preparing a treacherous attack on our clan. The druids decided that only you, my distant relative, could help your lineage in this difficult moment, for the blood of two of the most famous families has mixed in you, as in me, noble chiefs and warriors on the father's side, from mother's," Conan lowered his voice, "the blood of the elfs..."
Callan, who had listened with his mouth open to this rather passionate speech, interrupted Conan. "What are you bull-shitting about?!" he screeched, then stepped back with a pale face. "You're most definitely nuts!"
Conan raised his hand. "There's no time to linger, you have to go there as me and make it happen that our clan wins over the Campbells. You have two weeks, time left until Christmas. Then the crucial battle must take place, the further fate of not only McLaughlin, but also of Scotland as a whole depends on its outcome. Remember, since you are guided through time by the power of thought, you will be able to understand any language, you will be invincible, you will be able to move faster than a thought to any place in Scotland and when the time comes, you will come back. Now I have to stay here to take your place, because otherwise it is impossible for you to get to my time. What wouldn't I give up to be able to fight with my clan..."
Callan leapt to his feet and dashed to the door. The first step hit the floor, the next Callan was already stepping into the void.