Chapter 1
Chapter One
Golden Spiral
David was convinced that this was the day Amie would escape the time loop.
“One hundred twelve,” he said as they walked past Eons Café. “You’re familiar with the Fibonacci sequence?”
Amie wracked her brain, trying to summon memories from middle school math.
She hoped she was just imagining things, but the longer she spent repeating the same day, the harder it felt to recall pre-loop memories (especially the ones she’d already made an effort to suppress, a category under which most of her time in middle school fell).
“Every number in the sequence is the sum of the two numbers that come before it,” David continued mercifully. “Zero, one, one, two, three, five—”
“Bicycle,” Amie interrupted. She pulled David to the curb a few seconds before a bicyclist rounded the corner and sped past them.
“Wear a helmet!” David yelled. Amie joylessly mouthed the words along with him.
They continued walking without further comment on the bicyclist. The novelty of Amie’s prescience always swiftly faded for David. He was more interested in discussing the time loop itself than watching Amie continue to prove its existence.
“The Fibonacci sequence can be used to construct a Fibonacci spiral,” he continued, “which is a golden spiral that repeats infinitely.” He paused, giving Amie a pointed look.
“Like a time loop,” she said half-heartedly. She was having difficulty finding enthusiasm for this theory, but didn’t want to discourage him.
“Well, hopefully this time loop doesn’t repeat infinitely,” David said.
Amie grew nauseous at the thought.
“But,” David added, “Fibonacci sequences are often found in nature. Fruits, flowers, shells. What if zero-one-one-two appears at the end of this loop?”
“Hey, from your lips to …” Amie waved her hand vaguely. “… ears.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
They paused at the corner, David looking up and down the streets for cars. Amie knew they had about fifteen seconds before a break in traffic, so she said, “It’s just that yesterday you were very confident about one hundred eleven being ‘the day.’ ”
She dropped the air quotes. “Something about magic and prime numbers. You said similar things about eighty-one, thirty-nine, twenty-seven, and …” Amie struggled to remember, “… fifteen?” She stepped out into the street as the red Jeep drove past, signaling the break in traffic.
“What’s your theory, then?” David asked as they entered the grocery store. “I don’t need that,” he added as Amie headed for the shopping baskets.
“You will,” she responded, pulling the top basket from the stack. “I don’t really have a theory.”
David often asked her this question. Every time Amie gave her answer, she wondered if she’d have a better one the next time he asked.
“Excuse me,” Amie said, flagging down an employee as she and David exited the produce section. “There’s a woman in aisle two who needs help reaching the top shelf.”
“Have you ever tried picking the lottery numbers?” David asked. They passed aisle two, where a woman was thanking the employee for his assistance.
“Wouldn’t last long,” Amie said. “The money goes away as soon as the day resets.”
“But if you do it every day, eventually—” David trailed off as he noticed Amie was copying him word for word.
“ ‘—you’ll get out of the loop and still have the money,’ ” Amie finished. “Yeah, I know. I just feel like I’ll jinx it if I try to game the system.” She grabbed a jar of peanut butter from an endcap.
“That must get tiring,” David said as they turned down an aisle.
“It doesn’t,” Amie replied, knowing that he was referring to hearing people say the same things over and over again.
“At least, not our conversations. But that’s because I try to switch them up.
Like …” She picked up a bag of pretzels, pointing at the cartoon mascot displayed on the front.
“Doesn’t this sort of look like Mr. Sanderson in 2A? ”
David added a bag of chips to the growing pile in his arms. “Riveting conversation fuel.”
“Well, some days are better than others.” Amie returned the pretzels to their shelf.
Savannah arrived right on time. Her voice cut through the relative quiet of the late Monday morning grocery store lull as Amie and David reached the cereal aisle.
“Don’t do it,” Amie warned, watching her companion react to the voice. “You’ll only make things worse.”
“I wouldn’t,” David argued, reaching for a box on a high shelf. He struggled to get the height he needed without dropping the rest of his groceries.
“Trust me,” Amie said, holding out the basket she’d been carrying. “You will.”
David eyed the basket, then begrudgingly deposited his armful of groceries before retrieving the elusive cereal box.
Amie passed him the basket, grabbing a bag of granola off a shelf. “Be right back. Don’t interact with Savannah.”
She left behind a grumbling David as she exited the aisle. A woman was wandering toward her, looking frustrated as she peered down a different aisle.
“Raina!” Amie called.
The woman looked at her, brightening. “Hi, Amie,” she said, abandoning her search and walking over.
“Did you see Savannah?” Amie asked. She already knew the answer, but she liked to start the conversation with something casual.
The manager of Shelf Starter was always wandering the aisles on her morning off, and despite Amie knowing exactly what she was looking for and where to find it, she didn’t want to unnerve Raina with her intimate knowledge of the other woman’s grocery list.
“Yeah,” Raina said, almost apologetically. “She’ll run out of steam soon. Probably.”
They both winced as Savannah’s distant yelling crescendoed.
“Were you looking for something?” Amie prompted, wanting to get back to David.
“Ah, yeah. I ran out of granola—”
Amie held up the bag she’d grabbed. “I’ve got this granola if you want it.”
Raina looked startled. “I don’t want to take your—”
“Don’t worry about it. I also just decided I don’t want this peanut butter. Crunchy, not smooth.” Amie shoved the groceries into the other woman’s arms. “And if you need a can of pinto beans, make sure to take it from the top of the pyramid of cans, not the bottom. Gotta run, bye!”
Amie darted down the juice aisle just in time to intercept David, who was striding purposefully toward the flower counter.
“No you don’t,” she said, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him to a stop. “Leave it alone.”
“But—”
“Go get your eggs,” Amie said. “I promise you, by the time you get them, she’ll be done.”
David mumbled something about not having to take orders from her as he proceeded to follow her orders.
While waiting for him to return, Amie helped Canned Peaches Man find the canned peaches and prevented Destroyer of Fruits from causing an avalanche of apples (his mother thanked Amie as she deposited the toddler back into her shopping cart).
Sure enough, by the time David returned with a carton of eggs, the grocery store had once again descended into blissful quiet.
“ ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,’ ” David said as they made their way to check out. “Edmund Burke.”
“Edmund Burke didn’t say that.”
“Yes, he did!”
“No, he didn’t. I looked it up after the fifth time you quoted it to me.”
David didn’t speak for several minutes after that.