Carlos glanced at his watch and shook his head. “Nine thirty-five. I set it by the Naval Observatory Master Clock, so it’s more accurate.”
“More accurate than asatellite?” Amy asked, a tiny ribbon of irritation threading through her voice.
“Well,yes, actually—”
“Thanks so much,” I said quickly, wanting to head this off at the pass. “I just thought my phone was off. But I must have been mistaken.” They were still looking at me a little skeptically, and I plastered a big smile on my face that I hoped seemed somewhat natural. “But you guys have a great time! I’ll catch you later!”
They headed off, though I could hear them still bickering about time accuracy. I slumped back on the bench again and raked my hand through my hair, trying to bring my thoughts into some kind of order.
I closed my eyes for a long moment, hoping that when I opened them again, I would find myself back in a world that made sense. I’d be walking out the door, on my way to get an Uber, go home, and finish packing for Oregon. This was just…an anomaly. It was a very specific kind of déjà vu, that was all.
I opened my eyes and looked around. Everything was just the same as it had been a moment ago. The crowds of laughing seniors, the cast members checking wristbands, the clock on my phone reading 9:37 p.m.
I looked at the groups of happy people running off to start their nights, and felt frustration start to build in my chest. Because this hadhappenedalready. I’d lived through it once before! That was what I just couldn’t get my head around. Why was it happening again? Things like this just didn’t occur outside of movies and books. It wasn’t…
The wordstime loopfloated across my mind for just a second, before I immediately dismissed them. There was no such thing as a time loop. Which meant there had to be a rational explanation. Therehadto be. I put my head in my hands, trying to block out any distractions, needing to concentrate. Whatexactlyhad happened as I’d left? Maybe the answer was somewhere in there. I tried to mentally retrace my steps.
I’d been having the worst night ever. Freddie the cute musician had dumped orange soda on me. I’d run into Reagan, Greta and Nora, and worst of all, Bruce. Bryony had discovered I’d been lying about the Mermaid Café, and that I was leaving, and we had a friendship-cratering fight. Amy told me she and Carlos had broken up, and I’d headed for the exit, wishing—
My head flew up, and I drew in a shocked breath.
I’d made awish. I’d wished that I could have a chance to do things over and make things right. I’d wished that I coulddo this again.
My jaw dropped open, and I immediately closed it. I was remembering now, just after I’d done this, how the streetlight had flickered. At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it—just assumed it was the Cars Land DJ. But…
Could it be?
It wasn’t rational—I knew that. But Iwasat Disneyland. If something like this was going to happen, if a wish was going to come true, it was going to be here, wasn’t it? All at once, I regretted not wishing for millions of dollars, or Timothée Chalamet’s phone number, or a puppy.
Accepting this went against all my instincts and everything I’d been led to understand about how things worked. But I honestly wasn’t sure there could be any other explanation. So maybe the best thing to do was to accept that this seemed to be happening, and just…go with it?
“Hi!” I looked up to see Bryony hurrying toward me, carrying a sweating bottle of Dasani in one hand. Ms. Mulaney was hustling alongside her, her expression concerned.
“Are you okay?” Ms. Mulaney asked, pushing her long dark hair behind her ears. She leaned closer to look at me. “Bryony said you were sick.”
I took the bottle from Bryony, then took a long drink. “I’m okay,” I said slowly. I looked between the two of them, my wheels turning, assessing the situation. “So—we just got here, right?”
Bryony and Ms. Mulaney exchanged a quick, worried glance. “Do you maybe need something to eat, Cass?” Bryony asked. “Would that help?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m okay. But we did just get here, didn’t we? We’ve only been in the park for a few minutes?”
“Yeah,” Bryony said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Like, fifteen minutes, maybe? Tops?”
I nodded, a bit relieved that this wasn’t some giant prank that was being pulled on me. However this was happening…it washappening.
“Okay, cool,” I said, realizing they were both still looking at me, worried. “Just checking. The clock on my phone is acting kind of weird. That’s all.” I smiled at them—a real smile. “I promise I’m all good. We should go check things out, right?” I asked Bryony.
Bryony frowned, her head tilted slightly to the side, like she was trying to figure me out. “Are yousure?” she finally asked. “You looked really pale, Cass. Like, even more than usual.”
“Hey!” I said, laughing. It was a joke between us—how Bryony would tan whenever there was sun, and I would inevitably burn, no matter how much SPF 75 I put on. But I didn’t even mind the teasing. Just to get to laugh with Bryony again—when only a little while ago it had seemed impossible—felt like the most amazing, unexpected gift.
“Well,” Ms. Mulaney said, looking between the two of us, “if you’re sure you’re okay, you two should go have fun. But if you start feeling sick again, come find me in the chaperones’ lounge.”
“Is that where you went?” I asked Bryony.
She shook her head. “I caught up with Ms. Mulaney before she’d gotten there.”
“It’s by the Trattoria,” Ms. Mulaney said. “You’ll be able to spot it because it’s full of teachers trying desperately to stay awake. As you head toward Pixar Pier—” She gestured and the tote bag on her shoulder slipped off and fell to the ground, its contents spilling out. “Agh,” she muttered.
