Blue
Hollywood's Golden RoadVolume 1: Rebirth (Chapters 1-50)Chapter 1: Birthday BluesThe alarm clock screamed at 6:30 AM, and David Goldstein groaned, reaching out to slap it quiet. His hand felt... wrong. Smaller.He opened his eyes and stared at his bedroom ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars were still there—the ones he'd put up when he was nine. He turned his head and saw the poster of Will Smith from Men in Black on his wall.Wait. He'd taken that down in... when was it? High school?David sat up slowly, and his heart started pounding. His room looked exactly like it had when he was thirteen. Not similar. Exactly the same. The blue carpet, the twin bed, the desk with his homework scattered on it.He looked down at his hands. They were smooth, unmarked by the years of office work and stress. These were the hands of a kid."No," he whispered. "No, no, no."He scrambled out of bed and rushed to the mirror hanging on his closet door. The face staring back at him was thirteen years old—his thirteen-year-old face, with the unfortunate bowl cut his mom had insisted on and the braces he'd gotten last month.Last month? No, that was twenty-seven years ago.David's legs gave out and he sat hard on the floor. His mind was racing, memories crashing into each other like cars on a freeway. He remembered being forty-seven years old. He remembered his apartment in Chicago, his job at Henderson & Associates accounting firm, his ex-wife Jennifer, his empty fridge, his doctor's warnings about his blood pressure.He remembered watching the 2025 Oscars alone with a bottle of whiskey, feeling the crushing weight of all his regrets. He remembered the pain in his chest, his left arm going numb, falling to the floor.He remembered dying."David! Daniel! Time for breakfast!" His mother's voice drifted up from downstairs, and David felt tears spring to his eyes. Mom. She'd died in 2003 from breast cancer. He'd been eighteen, a freshman at Northwestern, and he'd missed her last days because of midterm exams."David?" His bedroom door burst open and his twin brother Daniel stuck his head in. "Dude, you okay? You look like you're gonna puke."Daniel. His brother looked so young, so untouched by life. In the original timeline, they'd grown apart after college. Daniel had moved to Seattle for Microsoft, and they'd talked maybe twice a year. David had missed his brother's wedding because of work."I'm fine," David managed to say, his voice cracking. "Just... weird dream.""Well, shake it off. Mom made French toast. It's our birthday, remember?" Daniel grinned and disappeared back into the hallway.Birthday. January 15th. David stood up and looked at the calendar on his wall—the one with the X's marking off days until his bar mitzvah in May. The year at the top read 1998.1998. He was thirteen years old again. Somehow, impossibly, he'd gone back twenty-seven years.David sat back down on his bed, trying to breathe slowly. This was insane. This couldn't be real. Maybe he was in a coma, dreaming. Maybe this was some kind of afterlife. Maybe he'd finally had a complete mental breakdown.But it felt real. Everything felt solid and real.He looked at his hands again, flexing his fingers. If this was real, if he was really back in 1998 with all his memories of the future intact...David's mind started working, shifting from panic to calculation. He knew what was coming. He knew everything—the dot-com bubble, 9/11, the financial crisis, which companies would rise and which would fall. He knew which movies would be hits, which songs would top the charts, which actors would become stars.He knew his own future too—the mistakes he'd made, the chances he'd missed, the dreams he'd abandoned."David! The French toast is getting cold!" His mother's voice again, with that particular tone that meant she was about to come upstairs."Coming!" David called back. He stood up, legs still shaky, and caught sight of himself in the mirror again.Thirteen years old. An entire life ahead of him. A second chance.He took a deep breath and headed downstairs.Chapter 2: Family BreakfastThe kitchen smelled like maple syrup and butter, and David had to stop in the doorway because the smell hit him like a physical blow. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had homemade French toast. In his previous life—he was already thinking of it that way—breakfast had been coffee and whatever pastry he could grab from Starbucks on his way to the office."There's the birthday boy!" His mother Rachel turned from the stove, spatula in hand, and smiled at him. She looked so young—only thirty-eight, with dark hair just starting to show threads of gray at the temples. In his memories, she was a sick woman in a hospital bed, her head wrapped in a scarf after chemo had taken her hair.David felt his throat tighten. "Hey, Mom.""You feeling okay, honey? You look pale." She walked over and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. The gesture was so familiar, so motherly, that David almost lost it completely."I'm fine," he managed. "Just tired.""Well, sit down and eat. Growing boys need their energy." She guided him to the table where Daniel was already demolishing his stack of French toast.Their father Mark looked up from his newspaper—an actual physical newspaper, David noted, not a tablet or phone. "Happy birthday, boys. Thirteen years old. Teenagers now.""Thanks, Dad," David and Daniel said in unison, then looked at each other and laughed. Twin telepathy, their mom called it.David sat down and looked at the plate of French toast in front of him. His mother had made it exactly how he liked it—extra cinnamon, powdered sugar on top. Details he'd forgotten until this moment."So," Mark said, folding his newspaper. "What do thirteen-year-olds want for their birthday these days? Besides that Nintendo 64 thing?""PlayStation, Dad," Daniel corrected. "Nintendo 64 was last year."David picked up his fork and took a bite of French toast. It tasted exactly like memory—better than memory. He chewed slowly, his mind racing.What did he want? Everything. Nothing. His mom not to die. His dad not to have a stroke at sixty-one. His brother to stay close. To actually live this time instead of just existing."David?" His mother was looking at him with concern. "You're being awfully quiet.""Just thinking," David said. "About... the future.""Well, that's appropriately dramatic for a teenager," Mark said with a chuckle. "But maybe enjoy being thirteen first, huh? The future will get here soon enough."David looked at his father—his hair still mostly brown, his face unlined, his hands steady as he lifted his coffee cup. In the original timeline, Mark would have his stroke in 2018, fifteen years from now. He'd survive it but would never be quite the same. David had flown home from Chicago for two weeks, then gone back to his empty apartment and his meaningless job."Dad," David said suddenly, "what do you think about investing? Like in the stock market?"Mark raised his eyebrows. "That's a pretty grown-up question for a birthday breakfast. Why do you ask?""School project," David lied smoothly. "We're supposed to learn about compound interest and stuff.""Well, the market's been doing well lately," Mark said. "But it's also risky. Your mother and I keep most of our savings in CDs and bonds. Safer that way.""But some stocks are good investments, right? Like... like technology companies?""Tech stocks are in a bubble right now," Mark said, taking another sip of coffee. "Everyone's throwing money at internet companies that don't even make a profit. It's going to crash eventually."David bit his tongue. His father was right—the dot-com bubble would burst in 2000. But some companies would survive and thrive. Amazon, Apple, Google."What about Apple?" David asked. "They seem like they're doing interesting things.""Apple?" Mark laughed. "They're barely hanging on. Microsoft is crushing them. Steve Jobs just came back, but I don't know if even he can save that company."Daniel looked at David curiously. "Why are you so interested in stocks all of a sudden?""Just wondering," David said with a shrug. "Thinking about the future and stuff."Rachel reached over and ruffled his hair. "You've got plenty of time to worry about money and investments, sweetie. Right now, focus on being a kid. Speaking of which, I need both of you to start thinking about your bar mitzvah. It's only four months away."David had completely forgotten about the bar mitzvah. In his previous life, it had been a standard ceremony—he'd read from the Torah, stammered through his speech, and then there'd been a party at the temple with a DJ and a buffet. It had been fine. Forgettable."Actually," David heard himself say, "I've been thinking about that. For the party, can I perform something? Like sing?"The table went quiet. Daniel stared at him. "You want to sing? Since when do you sing?""Since..." David trailed off. He'd never sung publicly in his first life. He'd been too afraid, too self-conscious. But in his forties, alone in his apartment, he'd sometimes put on karaoke tracks and pretended. His voice wasn't bad—or it hadn't been. Would it be the same now?"I just think it would be nice," David said. "Something different. More personal than a DJ playing Top 40."Rachel looked delighted. "I think that's a wonderful idea! We can get you voice lessons if you want.""Really?" David felt a flutter of something in his chest. Hope? Excitement?"Of course," Rachel said. "If you want to take singing seriously, we'll support you. Right, Mark?"Mark looked a bit taken aback but nodded. "Sure, sure. Why not? Though I should warn you, Goldstein men aren't exactly known for their musical talent. My father couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.""I want to try," David said firmly.Daniel was still staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "Okay, who are you and what did you do with my brother?"David grinned. "What, I can't want to try new things?""You spent the last year begging Mom to let you quit piano lessons," Daniel pointed out. "Now suddenly you want voice lessons?""People change," David said simply.What he didn't say: people get second chances, and they don't waste them.Chapter 3: School DazeSherman Oaks Middle School looked exactly like David remembered and nothing like he remembered at the same time. The building was the same—that ugly 1970s architecture that California schools seemed to love—but everything felt different through adult eyes in a teenage body.The hallways were too loud, too chaotic. Kids were shoving each other, yelling, laughing at jokes that weren't funny. David walked through it all feeling like he was in a play where everyone else knew their lines except him."Dude, you're being weird today," Daniel said as they stopped at David's locker. "Are you sure you're okay?""I'm fine," David said for what felt like the hundredth time. "Just... thinking about stuff.""Well, stop thinking and start paying attention. Jenny Morrison has looked at you like three times already."David followed his brother's gaze and saw Jenny Morrison—braces, butterfly hair clips, platform sneakers—standing by her locker with her friends. She caught him looking and quickly looked away, giggling.Jenny Morrison. He'd had a crush on her in eighth grade, had been too nervous to ever talk to her. She'd moved away the summer before high school, and he'd never seen her again. In his adult mind, that teenage crush felt absurd and distant."I don't think Jenny Morrison is my type," David said.Daniel's jaw dropped. "What? You've been in love with her since October!"Had he? The memories were there but felt faded, like someone else's life. Which, he supposed, they were."Things change," David said again.The bell rang, and they headed to first period—English with Mrs. Patterson. David slid into his usual seat by the window and pulled out his notebook. His handwriting looked so childish, all big loops and uneven letters.Mrs. Patterson started talking about The Outsiders, which they were reading for class. David remembered liking the book when he was thirteen. Now, with adult perspective, he saw different layers—the class commentary, the exploration of identity and belonging, the way S.E. Hinton captured that teenage feeling of being on the outside of everything."David?" Mrs. Patterson's voice cut through his thoughts. "Would you like to share your thoughts on yesterday's reading?"David looked up. The class was staring at him. In his previous life, he would have mumbled something generic and hoped she'd move on. But now?"I think Ponyboy is struggling with who he's supposed to be versus who he actually is," David said. "Everyone expects him to be a certain way because he's a Greaser, but he's realizing he's more complex than that. He likes sunsets and movies and books, but those things don't fit the image. And I think... I think a lot of people feel like that. Like they're trapped in a role they didn't choose."Mrs. Patterson looked pleasantly surprised. "That's an excellent observation, David. Can you elaborate on the concept of chosen versus assigned identity?"And just like that, David was in a discussion about symbolism and character development that probably sounded way too advanced for thirteen-year-old. He saw a few classmates giving him weird looks, but he didn't care. This was the gift of a second chance—he didn't have to pretend to be dumber than he was.When class ended, Daniel pulled him aside in the hallway. "Okay, seriously, what's going on with you? Since when do you talk about 'assigned identity' in English class?""I just... I understood the book," David said. "Is that weird?""Yeah, it's weird! You're acting like you're thirty or something."David felt his heart skip. "I'm just taking school more seriously. Is that a crime?""No, but it's suspicious," Daniel said, but he was grinning. "My brother the genius. Mom's gonna be so proud."David laughed, but inside he was making a note: dial it back. He couldn't act too different or people would ask questions he couldn't answer.The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes that felt surreal. Math problems he already knew how to solve. History lessons about events that, to him, were long past. Science classes teaching principles he'd learned decades ago.By lunch, David was exhausted from trying to act normal. He sat with Daniel and their usual group of friends—Josh, Marcus, and Tyler—and half-listened to them argue about whether Goldeneye or Mario Kart was the better N64 game."What do you think, David?" Josh asked, shoving half a slice of pizza in his mouth."I think..." David paused. What did he think? In his previous life, he'd loved video games as a kid but had gradually stopped playing as he got older. Work and stress had consumed everything. "I think they're both good for different reasons.""That's a cop-out answer," Marcus said, throwing a french fry at him.David caught it and threw it back, and for a moment, he felt actually thirteen again. Just a kid eating lunch with his friends, arguing about stupid things that didn't matter.Except it did matter. This mattered. These simple moments he'd taken for granted in his first life."Hey, did you guys hear?" Tyler leaned in conspiratorially. "They're having auditions for the spring musical. It's gonna be Grease.""Who cares?" Marcus said. "Musicals are lame.""I might audition," David heard himself say.Four pairs of eyes turned to him."You?" Josh said. "For the musical?""Yeah. Why not?""Because... because you're not a theater kid?" Marcus said, like it was obvious. "That's Sarah Chen's thing. And the drama nerds."David shrugged. "Maybe I want to try something new."Daniel was giving him that look again—the one that said his brother had been replaced by an alien.But David didn't care. In his previous life, he'd been too afraid of what people thought. He'd boxed himself into a comfortable, miserable existence because it was safe. Not this time.If he was really back, if this was really his second chance, he was going to take it.Starting with the spring musical.Chapter 4: Investments and IntentionsThat evening, David sat at the family computer—a bulky Gateway with a CRT monitor that took three minutes to boot up—and waited for the dial-up internet to connect. The screech of the modem was simultaneously nostalgic and painful.He'd convinced his mom that he needed to do research for his "school project" about investing. It wasn't entirely a lie.Once he was finally online—blessed, painfully slow internet—he navigated to Yahoo Finance. The stock quotes took forever to load.Apple Inc: $18.23 per shareAmazon.com: $84.00 per shareMicrosoft: $131.13 per shareDavid stared at the numbers, his heart pounding. In his previous timeline, he'd been too cautious with money. He'd saved religiously but never invested, afraid of risk. By the time he was forty-seven, his savings account had barely kept up with inflation while the stock market had soared.Now he was looking at Apple at eighteen dollars a share. By 2025, accounting for splits, that would be worth... he did the math in his head. A lot. Life-changing amounts.But he was thirteen. He couldn't just walk into a brokerage and start buying stocks. He needed his parents on board."David? Dinner in five minutes!" his mom called from downstairs."Coming!" David closed the browser and sat back in the creaky desk chair.He needed a strategy. He couldn't just tell his parents he had knowledge from the future. They'd think he was crazy. He needed to be subtle, plant seeds, make suggestions that seemed to come from a smart kid doing research rather than a forty-seven-year-old man in a teenager's body.At dinner—his mom's famous brisket, another wave of nostalgia—David decided to test the waters."So I did some research for that project," he said casually, cutting into his meat. "About investing and compound interest.""Oh?" His dad looked up, interested. "What did you learn?""Well, there's this thing called dollar-cost averaging," David said, pulling from actual financial knowledge. "Where you invest a little bit regularly instead of trying to time the market. And I read that even small investments can grow a lot over time if you pick good companies.""That's true," Mark said. "The key is picking good companies.""I was looking at some tech stocks," David continued. "And I know you said they're in a bubble, Dad, but some of them seem really solid. Like Amazon—they're an online bookstore, but they're expanding into other products. And Apple has Steve Jobs back, and he's supposed to be a genius."Rachel raised an eyebrow. "This is quite an in-depth school project.""I just find it interesting," David said truthfully. "And I was thinking... maybe for our bar mitzvah, instead of getting savings bonds from relatives, we could ask for money to invest? Like, start building fo