Chapter 17
seventeen
Chris
Dinner sucks. And that’s saying something, considering how much this entire day has blown.
The hospital was an even bigger bust than walking the streets.
I’d take the shops and crowds over waiting rooms, needles, and doctors any day.
And the worst part is that we’ll never even get to reap the fruit of our labor.
Either today will reset on us again, erasing all our hard work…
or it won’t, and that work won’t matter anyway.
The later it gets, the more anxious I become at the possibility of another reset.
Are we really trapped in the same day on repeat, or was today all some cosmic fluke?
We’d spent the day proceeding as though our time loop hypothesis was true, but the longer it drags on, the more I’ve started to doubt myself.
Maybe Percy and I did somehow dream the whole thing up—some kind of shared hallucination brought on by our past trauma.
Even if we hadn’t, we could wake up tomorrow free and clear through no effort of our own.
Hell, for all we know, by trying to fix a hypothetical time loop, we’ve already altered our futures enough to render the loop null and void.
So my thoughts go, around and around in circles. I suspect Percy’s follow a similar vein given his glum expression. Only Quinn remains her usual cheerful self. She’s the one who’d insisted we eat dinner, even though neither Percy nor I were particularly hungry.
She keeps up a steady stream of chatter as I pick at my cheeseburger until, without warning, she slams her hand on the table, rattling our glasses. I startle, jumping in my seat, and a few of the nearby patrons eyeball her, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy glaring at us.
“Okay, moping quotas achieved. You’re both acting ridiculous.”
“I think a little moping’s warranted after this shit day,” I mutter, chomping on a cold fry.
“It’s been a total bust! We’re no closer to figuring anything out than we were this morning.
” Quinn opens her mouth, and I narrow my eyes, jabbing another fry toward her.
“And don’t you dare start in about how ‘no time spent investigating is wasted’ or some such bullshit.
It is when we’ve still turned up no hint of an explanation for what happened to us or how to go about fixing it.
So, excuse me if I’m not exactly hopping up and down with joy right now. ”
“Chris is right,” Percy says quietly. My eyes dart to him in surprise. He sits slumped in his seat, staring at the paper wrapper from his straw as he shreds it into little pieces. “Today’s been one failure after another. Maybe we should call it a night and head back to the Royal Lilac.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Quinn says. Her rainbow dreads lash from side to side as she shakes her head. “Here you are, blessed with this incredible opportunity, and all you can do is sit around and feel sad for yourselves!”
“Opportunity?” I scoff. “More like a curse.”
“Do you know how many people would kill for the chance at a do-over? To be able to repeat a day with the knowledge of foresight and make better choices?”
I huff out a weak laugh. “I mean, I guess I could’ve gone for a better sandwich at lunch. That turkey panini was only so-so.”
She doesn’t bite at my weak attempt at humor. Instead, she levels me with a glare. “I mean it. And even setting aside the wasted opportunity, how can you already be ready to quit? I thought you said this was the first time today has repeated for you.”
“It is,” Percy ventures hesitantly. I don’t blame him for his reluctance to speak. Quinn can be scary when she’s riled up like this.
“So, let me get this straight,” Quinn says. “You might have literally an infinite number of days to try anything and everything to break free—assuming there’s even anything to break free from—and you’re both ready to give up after one lousy day?”
I deflate as her words sink in, a hot flush of shame creeping up the back of my neck.
She’s right—for all our bluster this morning about solving this mystery, we’d performed a half-assed investigation downtown, submitted to an afternoon of pointless tests at a hospital, and then immediately thrown in the towel.
When you put it like that, it does sound pretty pathetic.
After the disaster that had been my coming out, when I felt like I’d hit rock bottom, there’d been a couple dark days where I’d thought about taking what seemed like the easy way out.
But I hadn’t, and I’d sworn to myself I never would—that, no matter what happened, I’d keep fighting.
This feels an awful lot like breaking that promise.
Percy shifts beside me, and I glance over, meeting his crystal blue gaze. His unruly mop of hair tumbles over his face as he straightens his back, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s as soft as I remember. I tear my gaze away to face Quinn, clearing my throat.
“Maybe you have a point,” I say, my voice coming out a bit hoarse. I pray no one notices.
Percy mutely nods in agreement.
“Of course, I do,” Quinn says. She settles back in her seat. “Now, if you’re both ready to get your heads out of your asses, all that’s left is to decide what to do next. It’s not even seven yet—the night is still young.”
Percy glances at me. “Well, Quinn and I have each proposed a plan. Seems to me like it’s your turn.”
My turn. I shove down the inappropriate images that phrase conjures coming from Percy.
And seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?
When I first saw him on that ferry, I wanted nothing to do with him.
I still don’t. Yet somehow, he’s crept under my skin without me even realizing it.
He’s still the boy who broke my heart. So why can’t I keep my attention off him?
Maybe because of how kind he was to that kid Emmett who needed a friend. Or because being around him reminds you of the good ol’ days. Or maybe because, for a moment there in the hospital, he looked like he felt as sad and broken as you do…
Shaking away the uncomfortable thought, I focus back on the topic at hand.
Both Quinn and Percy are staring at me, awaiting my verdict.
“My turn, huh?” I rack my brain for ideas.
Plenty of crazy ones spring to mind, but those seem best saved for another time.
So far, we’d canvassed the general populace and sought medical diagnoses.
Logic and science. What else did that leave?
I grin as I recall one of the people we’d run into this morning. My nascent plan seems as unlikely to pan out as everything else we’ve done today. Still, it might at least offer some fun.
“Ooo, I know that look,” Quinn exclaims, matching my grin with one of her own. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I flick my eyes from her eager expression to Percy’s far more wary one. “So, have either of you ever been on a ghost tour?”
I was right. In the end, the haunted tour I suggested turned up absolutely nothing of significance.
When logic and science fail, that leaves the mysterious and arcane.
But if vengeful witches or dissatisfied spirits had caused our repeated day, they don’t seem eager to make their presence known.
I do, however, learn way more than I ever wanted about Mackinac Island’s sordid history.
I’m sure Oshkoff would’ve loved it. Quinn, for her part, eats it up, oohing and ahhing in all the right places.
Despite my best efforts, I spend more of the tour watching Percy than whatever our overly enthusiastic guide—a high school guy hamming it up for our benefit—chooses to point out.
Of the three of us, Percy seems most affected by the whole haunted thing.
Our tour guide’s in the middle of describing a particularly horrific homicide when I notice Percy trembling, his eyes wide as he glances nervously up and down the street.
“Still not a fan of scary stories?” I ask, sidling up beside him.
He jerks in surprise, looking a heartbeat away from bolting down the street.
When he registers me, he tries to turn the sudden motion into a stretch.
I raise an amused eyebrow, and he scowls, abandoning the effort.
“What’s the point of purposefully freaking yourself out?
Life’s full of enough actual things to fear without piling on more. ”
I think of the half-formed story I’d started the other night about the island serial killer. “It’s not about being scared. I mean, sure, there’s the adrenaline rush and the thrill of suspense. But that’s not why I like horror.”
He turns to face me more fully. “Oh, yeah?” His pale blue eyes draw me into their icy depths. The rest of the tour group and our guide’s continued spiel fade into the background. “Then, what is?”’
I swallow as a faint shiver races down my back that has nothing to do with the October chill.
“Control. In a story, you can work through the shit that terrifies you because, no matter how unsettling it gets, you know deep down it isn’t real.
It can’t hurt you. And that makes you the master of your fear so you can conquer it before it conquers you. ”
Judging by the intent way Percy studies me, my words must’ve struck a chord.
A gust of wind billows past us, and he hugs his jacket tighter around him.
That’s when I realize how close we’re standing.
It would be so easy to reach out and drag him even closer—to wrap him in my arms and offer both warmth and comfort.
Of course, it would also be a terrible mistake, no matter what my misguided libido thinks it wants.
Muttering a half-assed excuse, I retreat from Percy and return to Quinn’s side. I ignore the look she gives me, a too-discerning gleam in her eye. Whatever. Let her speculate all she wants—if my hunch is right, she won’t remember any of this tomorrow anyway.