Chapter 12
twelve
Percy
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I groan, dragging a pillow over my ears.
I’d have thought I’d feel better rested today after crawling into bed right after dinner last night, but my eyes are as tired and grainy as they were yesterday.
I guess one too many late-night gaming sessions finally caught up to me.
Or maybe that argument with Chris left me that drained.
The memory of his face twisted with disdain has me burrowing even deeper under my covers.
God, he’d let me have it at dinner. I mean, I know I’d screwed up.
I’m the reason things ended the way they did between us.
I’d completely withdrawn from him (and pretty much everything else) after learning about my mom’s diagnosis.
Flash forward two years later, and I’m still struggling to piece my life back together.
So yeah, I get why he’s pissed at me. But I’d hoped things would’ve been better for him.
Just because my life had sucked didn’t mean I’d wanted him to suffer too.
The thought that I might’ve ruined his college experience as much as I had my own wrecks me.
He’d deserved so much more than I could have given him.
That’s part of why I’d pulled away in the first place.
After all, when it had mattered most, I’d proven how weak I really am.
In hindsight, reaching out had been a mistake.
Maybe it’s for the best he shut me down before I could tell him about my mom.
What’s the point of picking the scabs off old wounds?
Now that our ill-fated trip together is drawing to a close, we’ll return to our old lives, graduate, and never see each other again. No harm, no foul.
That thought doesn’t comfort me nearly as much as it should.
My alarm goes off again, and I uncurl myself from the sheets enough to blearily check it, blinking in surprise when I see it’s only 8:05 AM.
Our ferry doesn’t leave until noon, and there’s nothing official planned for Sunday morning.
What had I been thinking when I set the alarm so early?
I must have been really out of it last night.
Discarding my phone on the nightstand, I grab a quick shower and get dressed. I consider packing now so I won’t have to do it later, but my stomach rumbles, making the decision for me. Clothes can wait until after breakfast.
I’m surprised when I find other students already up and about. I mean, I know eight AM isn’t that bad for most people, but what self-respecting college student would choose to get up this early? Especially when many of them had likely visited the bars downtown last night.
Whatever. To each their own, I guess. I’m up at this ungodly hour, so it’s not like I have any room to judge. I take the stairs down, turn toward the entrance to the cafe, and collide with someone.
Déjà vu, I think, stumbling back. That feeling only intensifies when I see it’s Susie. She’s wearing the same dress and athletic tights as yesterday, her hair pulled up. Maybe she’s going for a morning run?
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” she stammers. “I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
I smile at her, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “Morning, Susie. We need to stop running into each other like this.”
Rather than laughing it off like I expect, she frowns, studying me. “Do I know you? I don’t recognize you from any of my classes.”
My smile falters. “It’s me. Percy?” Her blank expression doesn’t change, so I add, “We met yesterday. Right here, in fact.”
There’s still no recognition on her face. Could she have forgotten already? She scrunches her brows in thought, then shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t think so. Devon and I went out last night after we got in. I don’t think I was ever at the cafe.”
“Not in the evening. In the morning. For breakfast.”
Her eyes widen, and she takes a step back. The way her shoulders tense and her gaze darts from side to side makes it clear she’s trying to escape the conversation. “I…don’t think that’s possible. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
What the hell did I say wrong? I rub my eyes again, peering at the girl. It’s definitely Susie. But other than a brief smile here or there, I don’t think we interacted at all yesterday after our morning collision. I must not have left much of an impression.
Unsure what else to do, I mumble, “Sorry. My mistake.” Best to cut my losses and end the conversation before I embarrass myself further.
She nods, still seeming wary, and edges around me, scurrying off like I might suddenly attack her or something. I shake my head again as I head into the cafe. Maybe I’m more tired than I thought.
At least there’s no sign of Chris this morning. I’m not sure I can handle interacting with him right now, even from afar. Certainly not until I get some caffeine and calories into me.
I wait my turn in the small line at the cafe until I reach the glass counter at the front.
Owen’s working there again. Same outfit, too, if I’m not mistaken.
Just like Susie. Weird. His, at least, makes sense if it’s some sort of mandated work uniform his mom forces him to wear when dealing with customers.
I’m not surprised when Owen’s as cold as yesterday, giving me the silent treatment and acting like we’ve never met.
I don’t bother trying to make small talk, keeping my eyes down while I mutter my order.
Apparently, ignoring him is the wrong move as well because, by the time he stalks over with my drink order and muffin, he looks ready to tear me limb from limb.
He thrusts my order at me. “Here you go, sir,” he grits out. “Hope you have a pleasant day.”
I sigh and reluctantly jerk my eyes up to his furious ones. “What do you want from me, Owen? I tried to talk to you yesterday, and you made it clear I shouldn’t bother. Now you’re acting like me ignoring you is pissing you off even more. So, which is it?”
For a moment, surprise flickers across his face. Then, his expression hardens. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. The last time we spoke, you told me how much you were looking forward to visiting for the summer. Guess that was a lie, though, huh?”
The last time we spoke?
I’m still trying to process what he means when he shakes his head. “Forget it.” Before I can respond, he’s retreated to the back corner, as far away from me as he can get without fleeing the room.
Feeling slightly dazed, I grab my latte and muffin and settle in at the same table along the wall I used yesterday. First Susie and now Owen—do I really leave so little of an impression on people that they can forget entire conversations we’ve had?
If it were anyone else, I might suspect it was part of an elaborate practical joke. But I can’t see this new, angsty Owen going along with that. Besides, who here would single me out for a prank—Chris? Yeah, right.
Maybe I’m overthinking this. I mean, maybe Susie had a lot on her mind yesterday and simply forget a random one-minute conversation she had with a stranger. And Owen—well, he’s been acting odd from the beginning. It’s not like his blow-up today is much different from how he treated me yesterday.
Besides, what does it matter? I’ll probably never run into Susie again after this trip, and who knows when I’ll see Owen again. It’s not like I have any intention of returning to Mackinac Island any time soon. Not after all the painful memories yesterday dredged up.
I’m finishing off my muffin when my phone buzzes.
I pull it out to see I’ve got a text from my dad.
Guilt flashes through me for not messaging him more last night like I’d planned.
After my argument with Chris at dinner, I’d lacked the mental fortitude to deal with more painful memories.
Honestly, I’m not sure I’m much better off now, but I don’t want him to think I’m purposefully ignoring him.
I check my dad’s message and stare. What the fuck? A familiar list fills my screen, along with an equally familiar message.
Dad: These were some of your mom’s favorites. Thought you might want to make a point to visit them today.
It’s the same. The exact same as the message he sent me yesterday before the bike ride. Did my phone glitch and reload old texts?
I quickly scroll through the message thread, my unease deepening.
All the texts we exchanged yesterday are gone as if they never existed.
There’s just the message he sent me before the trip letting me know he was outside to pick me up, and then this one.
The time on his message registers as only a couple minutes old, too, rather than a day ago.
Is something wrong with my phone, or perhaps the entire network?
My heartbeat comes too fast, my breath hitching as my mind races. I try to tamp down on the wild trajectory of my thoughts but can’t quite manage it, the facts collating to form a disturbing picture.
My alarm, still set for 8:00 AM.
That weird run-in with Susie.
Owen, insisting we hadn’t spoken in years.
And now, this text message copied straight out of the past.
The past…
My fingers tremble as I close my messaging app and pull up my phone’s main menu, my gaze fixed on the display at the top with the time and date. My breath catches as time seems to slow.
The display reads Saturday, October 14th, 8:42 AM.
Yesterday’s date.
No, no, no. This isn’t happening. It’s not possible.
My aluminum chair shrieks against the tiled floor as I scoot it back, leaping to my feet. People are staring at me, and Owen scowls in my direction, but I don’t care. This is too much—all too much.
Perhaps I wasn’t so off base with the idea of a practical joke after all. That’s what this is, right? Someone must’ve changed the date on my phone, making it appear a day behind. It can’t be that hard to do. They’d just have to get to it…in my locked room…with me sleeping next to it…
Maybe they did it last night or yesterday afternoon, and it took me this long to notice the ruse?
I know I’m spiraling, standing there in the middle of the cafe wide-eyed and trembling. But I have no idea how to reconcile the apparent evidence with everything I thought I knew about the way the world works.
Pull it together, Wentworth! There must be a way to prove this is all some cruel trick. A method to disprove my faulty hypothesis.
I barrel out of the cafe, searching the rooms downstairs for something to counter my line of thinking. A gaggle of people waiting to jump out and shout surprise, perhaps? Anything that would prove the past isn’t repeating itself right before my eyes.
Reaching the front entryway, I pause and glance around. My eyes fall on the front windows, and I can’t stifle my gasp. Professor Oshkoff stands outside, along with a growing group of students.
That’s why everyone is up so early, a voice whispers in the back of my head. They’re all getting ready for the bike ride. You know, the one that hasn’t actually happened yet.
No. No! No!
“Excuse me?” I say, snagging the first person to pass me—a husky guy with terrible acne. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”
His eyes flick to my own phone, still clenched tightly in one hand, then narrow suspiciously. “What for?”
“Please, man,” I beg. “There’s something wrong with mine, and I’ve got to check something. It’ll only take a second.”
Reluctantly, the guy unlocks his phone and holds it out to me. I snatch it and check the date, holding my breath.
Saturday, October 14th, 8:49 AM.
It’s the same. The goddamn same!
The guy’s still watching me like he thinks I’m going to run off with his phone, so I shove it back to him. “What day is it today?”
The guy’s lip curls, stretching the acne across his cheeks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“The day!” I practically shout, and he takes a step away from me. “What day is it?”
His brows shoot up. “Seriously?”
I nod frantically. “Please. Tell me!”
“Okay, okay!” The guy holds up his hands. “It’s Saturday, dude. You know, the day of the trip? The one we’re currently on?”
Saturday…
I don’t reply, can’t reply. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I feel like I’m going insane, and by the look the guy gives me as he beats a hasty retreat, so does he.
This doesn’t make any sense! How the hell is this happening? Am I asleep, stuck inside some incredibly vivid dream? Or maybe an accident last night left me in a coma.
For some reason, I can’t quite bring myself to believe it.
Impossible or not, this feels too real to be only in my head.
And if it is…well, if it is, then I’m all sorts of screwed anyway.
This must be what a total mental breakdown feels like—as if your entire world is crumbling around you.
My vision wavers, and I search for someplace to sit before I faint or collapse or do something equally embarrassing.
Yeah, as if making a fool of myself is my biggest problem right now…
I’m about halfway across the room toward an adjacent parlor when I spy another familiar figure barreling down the stairs, his face panicked. He shoves his way past several other students, his wild eyes leaping around the room before settling on me.
Such expressive eyes, my dazed mind supplies. The perfect mix of green and gold. God, I’ve missed those eyes. And those lips. And…
And even through my brain fog, heat races down my skin when Chris’ long fingers tighten around my arm.
He’s speaking to me, I realize, the words lost to the incessant buzzing in my ears.
It takes every ounce of control I can muster to focus on what he’s saying instead of staring at his plump, perfect lips or the faint stubble along his narrow jaw.
“Do you know what day it is? Perce, come on, talk to me. Do you know what day it is?”
“Sunday,” I whisper, locking onto his intent gaze. “It’s supposed to be Sunday.”
Relief floods Chris’ face. “Oh, thank God! I’m not the only one.
I’m not crazy!” Then, he blinks, his relief fading to horror so quickly it might’ve been comic under other circumstances.
He groans and presses a hand over his face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Out of everyone else on this damn island who could’ve remembered what happened, why did it have to be you? ”