Chapter 146
We ended up outside Award Wieners—it was the final place at the park I hadn’t eaten, so I wanted to be sure to try it.
As I’d tried to explain to Freddie what was happening—and what was going to happen—we’d both decided that we needed some food, and had headed here and ordered.
Freddie had gotten the bacon dog; I’d stuck with the regular hot dog for what I was hoping would be my last Grad Nite dinner.
“Okay,” Freddie said, turning to me once we’d both ordered and paid. “Just to make sure I have this straight—you’re in a time loop.”
I nodded. On the walk here I’d given him the basic facts—Grad Nite, my best friend Bryony, the night repeating. But like usual, it was taking him a moment to get his head around it. “Like Pettigrew’s Loop.”
Freddie’s face lit up. “I love that movie! I can’t believe you’ve seen it—”
“I saw it because you told me to,” I said with a laugh. “I’d never heard about it before.”
He shook his head. “This is so cool. I always wanted something like this to happen—which you know, of course. But it’s still brilliant. Jack and I always would talk about it…” He trailed off and looked at me, head tilted to the side. “But maybe you know that already?”
“I do,” I assured him, as I pulled the list out of my bag. I handed it over and saw Freddie’s eyes widen as he read it. “This is my dossier on Freddie Sharma.”
“This is…I really told you all this?” he asked, reading it. He looked up at me in horror. “I told you about Geraldine Bewley?”
I laughed. “You did.”
“But…” His eyes traveled over the paper again. “Why would you write this out? Wouldn’t you have to do it every time? Nothing would be able to come with you when the loop reset.”
“That’s right,” I said, impressed Freddie had gotten there before me and hadn’t had to conduct experiments to make this clear. “I guess it all just seemed like stuff I wanted to make sure I remembered.” His eyes met mine, and my heart started to beat a little faster. “It all seemed important.”
He gave me a smile, his dimple flashing. “Well, I don’t know about that.” He tapped on the bottom of the page. “What’s this?”
“Those are song lyrics.”
“That’s what I thought. But who wrote them?”
I smiled at him. “You did.”
He looked up at me, his jaw dropping open in surprise. “Wait—what?” But before I could explain more, our number was called, and we collected our trays and headed over to the tables outside the restaurant—a little bit tucked away from the bustle of the crowds, so we could eat our hot dogs in peace.
I took a bite—really good, it would be a close call between this and Angry Dogs—and then looked across the table at him.
“Every time we’ve hung out, something has inspired you.
It’s never the same thing twice. And you always write it down, usually in your black Moleskine notebook.
But since I knew you weren’t going to remember, I just wanted there to be some record of it all. ”
His eyes were wide as he looked back at the paper. “This is mental. I was just thinking these lyrics were great. I didn’t realize I was the one who came up with them!”
I laughed and ate one of my french fries. “I mean, I suppose that’s better than thinking they were terrible.”
He nodded as he picked up his hot dog. “You make an excellent point.” We ate in silence for a moment—I was hungrier than I normally was, but I had been running a lot more tonight than I usually did.
“So,” Freddie said, setting the hot dog down and wiping the corners of his mouth.
“We must have…spent a lot of time together. For you to know all these things. For me to come up with all these lyrics.”
I gave him a smile that I knew I wasn’t quite keeping the sadness out of.
“We did.” I looked across the table at him, struck once again by the dichotomy of it.
Freddie was someone I knew so well—and he didn’t know me at all.
“It was the best,” I said simply. “In the beginning, I told you everything that was happening—like now. You were the only person I told actually. The one person who understood. But then, more recently, we just…bumped into each other. And walked around for a bit. We got ice cream and talked.”
Freddie leaned across the table, his eyes finding mine. “And did we…Did we ever…”
I shook my head. “No. I mean, there were vibes—”
“Oh were there,” he said with a grin, raising an eyebrow.
“But—no. Nothing happened.” The word yet seemed to hang in the air between us for a moment. I looked away and finished the rest of my dinner quickly—I could feel that I was blushing.
Freddie tossed his napkin on the tray and looked at his phone. “I actually need to get going. Not that I want to leave—it’s that we have the show tonight.”
I took a breath. “Right. About that.”
The smile slid off Freddie’s face. “What?”
“It doesn’t go well,” I said, not able to stop myself from wincing.
Freddie stared at me in horror. “But there’s a manager coming to the show tonight….”
“Oh I know,” I assured him.
“What happens?”
“Well, Alfie gets food poisoning. Onstage. He eats some—as you say—dodgy prawns.”
“Alfie,” Freddie groaned, running his hands over his face.
“And for a while I was thinking I could stop it. If I stopped him from eating them as soon as possible. But he ate some at the restaurant, too—there’s really no stopping it. And then, when we stop him from playing, the whole thing just doesn’t work without a guitar player.”
“Oh my god,” Freddie said. He’d turned very pale, like he was picturing it all in his mind.
“There’s more,” I said grimly.
“There’s more?”
“It’s Niall,” I said, knowing that I had to work my way into this.
“What about Niall? Does he eat the prawns, too?”
“I wish,” I wasn’t quite able to stop myself from saying. “No, he—sabotages you.”
“He what?”
“He puts something in your water. Something that gives you an allergic reaction. Because he knows about the manager coming and doesn’t want it to go well for you.
I know,” I said quickly, trying to get in front of Freddie’s denials—he was already shaking his head.
“I know he’s your best friend. But I’ve seen it happen, over and over.
And once, you didn’t drink the water he gave you and nothing happened.
And then you drank it in front of me to prove it and… ”
“Hives,” Freddie said hollowly. He shook his head. “This is…a lot.”
I nodded, suddenly wishing I hadn’t eaten all my french fries. He looked like someone who could have used some carbs right around now. “I know it is. And I’m sorry—I just wanted you to know.”
“No, of course,” he said, then gave a short, unhappy laugh. “So—it’s going to be a disaster. And there’s nothing we can do.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “But I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to fix things.”
Freddie sat up straighter. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning across the table. “I think I have a plan.”
“Have we tried this plan before? Does everything work out perfectly?” he asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid not. This would be the first time.”
“Well then.” Freddie gave me a smile and leaned forward. “It sounds like you better tell me what we’re doing.”