But when I opened my eyes again, nothing had changed.
“I can’t get a B,” I said, still staring at the test. “How am I supposed to get into Cornell with a B?”
“It’s a B+,” he reminded me, and I glared at him. He might as well have told me I’d failed. “It’s not the same as an A, but it’s not the end of the world. We’ll have other chances to pull our grades up. If you work at it, you can still get an A for the year.”
“It’s just… this isn’t me.” I flipped through the test, taking in all the red marks. “I know this material. I couldn’t have messed up like this. I need a retake.”
“Annabelle,” Zac said my name calmly. “I know you can do better too, and you will next time. We’ll study together again.”
I shrugged him off and continued looking through the test, cringing at every mistake I’d made. If this was how I’d done after studying with Zac last time, I certainly didn’t plan on studying with him again.
When the bell finally rang, Jake paused as he was gathering his stuff, and he looked back at me. My heart stopped, and I froze, my eyes locked with his. This was the first time he’d looked at me—really looked at me—all morning.
After our texts earlier, he must be planning on hanging back so we could talk. Could he feel that there was something different about me? That I wasn’t Annabelle—that I was Anna? His best friend, who he loved?
Then Marisa brushed her fingers over his arm. “Come on,” she said, and he turned around, following her out the door.
“Hey.” Zac said softly, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you still upset about the test?”
“No.” I picked the test off my desk and shoved it into my bag. “I mean, I am. But…”
We need to talk.
I pressed my lips together, unable to get the words out. Zac looked so worried—it was obvious that he cared about me a lot—and I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Ready to walk to Spanish?” Claire said, bouncing over to join us.
I glanced at Zac, who was still watching me as if he were trying to figure me out, and I couldn’t say it. At least not right now. We didn’t have much time between classes, so he would be left wondering what he’d done wrong for hours. The nice thing to do was to wait until lunch. Or until after school.
“Yeah.” I grabbed my bag and smiled at Claire. “Let’s go.”
“Hold up.” Robby stepped into our circle, his gaze pinned on Claire. “Don’t leave yet. Not before I have a chance to ask Claire to the Halloween dance.”
“The dance.” My breath caught, and that night—the nightmare that I’d been trying to forget—flashed through my mind. The shots. The screams. The blood.
Jake dying.
It had to have been a nightmare. Except that as much as I kept trying to tell myself otherwise, it felt real. Just like this—right now—felt real.
If this was a dream, I would eventually wake up. That’s what most likely would happen, because come on—people didn’t just wake up in a different version of their life. But for now, I had to continue on like it was reality. Some twisted reality that was similar to the one I’d already experienced, but reality nonetheless.
It was impossible to ignore that most of today had paralleled what had happened the first time around. Eric wanting to dress as a pirate and steal Dad’s rum, Danny letting him copy his math homework and asking me to the dance, and everything Ms. Bunnell had said when handing back our tests.
Why would Friday night be any different?
It likely wouldn’t be. Which meant someone was going to bring a gun to that dance. For whatever reason, they were going to shoot it.
Jake might die. I might die.
And I was the only one who knew what was going to happen.
Which meant I was the only one who could stop it.
“You can’t go to the dance.” I gripped the back of my chair and looked steadily at each of them. “None of us can go to that dance.”
Monday, October 27
“What are you talking about?” Claire looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. “This is our last Halloween dance before we graduate. Of course we’re going.”
“Yeah,” Zac added. “We already have our costumes and everything.” He reached for my hand, but I stepped away, dropping my arm to my side.
Hurt flashed across his eyes, and I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to meet his gaze.
“No.” I swallowed, focusing on Claire. But she only looked confused.
Given the circumstances, I couldn’t blame her.
What could I say to get them to believe me? If I told the truth, they would think I’d lost it. Plus, I had no idea who the shooter was. I’d seen Claire and Zac on the dance floor when the first shot had gone off, so it hadn’t been either of them. But what about Robby? He and Claire had just had that fight, and he’d been sulking off to the side.
What if that flash of metal in his jacket hadn’t been a flask? What if it had been a gun?
It could have been him.
It could have been anyone.
My eyes darted around the classroom, paranoia setting in. Until the shooter was caught, no one at school was safe.
“We can’t go,” I said again. “I know it sounds crazy, but you have to trust me. We can’t go to that dance.”
“Damn right it sounds crazy,” Robby said.
“Cool it, man.” Zac puffed out his chest and stepped toward Robby, glaring at him.
“You should be telling that to your girlfriend, not to me.” Robby didn’t back down. “All I did was ask Claire to the dance. So, Claire,” he said, refocusing on her. “You want to go, right?”
“Of course I do,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Great.” Robby gathered his stuff and headed to the door. “I’ll see you around.”
We were all silent until he turned the corner. Then they both turned to me.
“What was that about?” Claire asked, her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you want to go to the dance anymore? We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”
“You can’t go,” I repeated, hoping that if I said it enough times, she would trust me. “I can’t explain it right now, but none of us can go.”
“This isn’t like you, Annabelle.” Zac reached for my arm again, but I brushed him away. “What’s going on?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, still refusing to look at him. Because of course this wasn’t like me. Whoever I’d become—whoever “Annabelle” was—she was a complete stranger.
How could I have changed so much in only a few months?
I didn’t have an answer. But he and Claire were both watching me, waiting for a response. I had to say something.
“We can’t be late for class,” I said, since students for next period were starting to filter inside. “Let’s talk during lunch, okay? The three of us? Somewhere quiet. The library.”
I had no idea what I was going to tell them. But there were a few things I knew for sure.
First, that I’d seen Zac and Claire on the dance floor, and that he’d run out of the gym with her the moment the first shot was fired. So neither of them could be the shooter. I also knew that Jake wasn’t the shooter, since… well, since he’d been one of the victims. And most importantly, I knew there was no way that I, or anyone I cared about, was going to that dance.
If that meant telling the truth, then so be it.
Monday, October 27
Through my morning classes, I contemplated how to convince Zac and Claire to believe me. No matter what, I was going to sound crazy. But I had one big advantage—I’d already lived through this week. I knew details about what was going to happen. Not just about the shooting, but about other things too. Smaller things.
I could use that knowledge to prove I was telling the truth.
Claire and I walked to our agreed meeting spot in the library—one of the private study rooms in the back. On our way there, I spotted Danny doing his homework in one of
the cubicles.
“Hey, Danny,” I said as we walked by him.
“Annabelle,” he said, barely looking up from his textbook. “You didn’t have to do that this morning.”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Try to get me to stand up to Eric.”
“I was just trying to help.” I shuffled my feet and pulled at the strap of my bag. “I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to.”
“No need to apologize,” he said. “But I didn’t need any help.”
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s okay.” He ducked his head back into his textbook, and figuring he had work he needed to do, I said bye and followed Claire into one of the group study rooms.
“What was that about?” she asked, glancing over at Danny.
“That’s just my neighbor who carpools with us to school,” I said. “Eric sometimes copies his math homework on our drive here. This morning I tried to get him to stand up for himself, but I think I ended up embarrassing him.”
“You were just trying to help,” she said. “Although if he needs help with anything, it’s fashion. Who buttons up the top button of their shirt?”
It wasn’t nice, but I couldn’t help chuckling, since I’d thought the same thing too.
“More importantly,” she said, dropping her bag onto the floor and sitting down at the table. “Why don’t you want to go to the dance?”
“It’s a long story.” I sat down next to her, pulled out my lunch, and glanced at my watch. “I’ll do my best to explain, but we need to wait for Zac so I can tell you together.”
“Did something happen last night between the two of you?” she asked. “You wouldn’t even let him hug you this morning. I would think you were fighting with him, but you two never fight, and he seemed so confused…”
“Something happened last night, but not between me and Zac,” I said. “It’ll all make sense once I explain everything.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms. “But Zac better get here soon. Waiting is driving me crazy.”
We started to eat, and I did my best to keep the conversation light. Finally, Zac hurried through the library and into the study room, balancing a lunch tray piled up with food.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, catching his breath. “I know you girls bring your own lunches to school, but I like hot food.” He situated himself at the table and reached for my hand, but I pulled away, scooting my chair closer to Claire.
His eyes flashed with hurt, and I looked down, focusing on my food.
“So, what’s going on?” He cleared his throat and opened his milk. “Why did you change your mind about the dance?”
“It’s a long story.” I took a deep breath, mentally running through everything I’d been planning on telling them. “And it’s going to sound crazy. But I need you both to hear me out, okay?”
“Of course,” Zac said at the same time that Claire said, “We’re listening.”
I looked back and forth between them, wringing my hands together. There was no way to say this in a way that would make me sound sane.
I just had to get it out and hope for the best.
“We can’t go to the dance because I’ve already been to it, and I know that something terrible is going to happen there,” I said quickly.
They stared at me, looking like they were trying—and failing—to understand what I’d said.
“What do you mean that you’ve ‘already been to the dance?’” Claire finally asked. “The dance isn’t until Friday.”
“I know,” I said. “This is going to sound crazy, but I hope you believe me—I was at the dance last night. To me, this entire week already happened. Yesterday was Halloween. But when I woke up this morning, it was Monday again. It’s like the past week was erased. And this is the second time I’m living through it.”
“What?” Zac scratched his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s beyond ‘not making sense.’” Claire’s eyes were huge, her fork abandoned in her salad. “You can’t mean… are you saying that you traveled back in time?”
“Yes.” I shifted in my seat, my cheeks flushing at how ridiculous it sounded. “Something like that.”
“But that’s impossible.”
“It’s about to sound even more impossible,” I said. “Because the fist time I lived through this week, my entire life was different. In that life—in my real life— my mom got into a car accident back in March. She didn’t…” I swallowed, unable to look either of them in the eyes. “She didn’t make it.”
They were both silent as they absorbed what I’d said.
“But that never happened.” Claire squeezed my hand, giving me a small smile. “Your mom never got into a car accident. She’s fine—I saw her Friday night when I came over for dinner.”
“In my real life, she did get into a car accident,” I insisted. “Trust me. It was real, and it was hell. I lived through it all.”
“Maybe you just had a really bad dream?” she asked softly, her eyes urging me to agree.
“No.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t a dream. It was real. Every day since March, I wished that the accident had never happened. Then I woke up this morning and that wish came true. My mom’s here. She’s alive. Except…”
The memories of the shooting flashed through my mind—the pop of the gun, the screams, Jake’s blood seeping through my fingers, his eyes staring lifeless at the ceiling—and I couldn’t say any more. It was too gruesome. Too horrible.
Zac lifted his hand to my cheek and forced me to look at him. “It was a nightmare,” he insisted. “A terrible nightmare, but your mom is fine. I promise.”
“No.” I pushed his hand away—I didn’t want him to touch me. No one was supposed to touch me like that except for Jake.
“Annabelle.” His voice caught when he said my name, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “I want to try to help… but why are you pushing me away? This isn’t like you. I don’t get it.”
“I’m sorry.” I took a sip of water, trying to compose myself. I must sound like I’d lost it. I felt like I’d lost it. Everything that I was saying—it was crazy.
But I needed them to believe me so we could figure out how to stop that shooting.
I had to keep trying.
I took a deep breath, centering myself. “I’m telling you the truth,” I continued. “I know what a dream feels like, and my life before waking up here wasn’t a dream. It was real.”
“Okay.” Claire glanced at Zac, giving him a look that clearly meant he should go along with it—for now. “I think you need to tell us more, so we can try to understand.”
Zac clenched his jaw, his eyes shining with frustration, but he nodded for me to continue.
“Like I said, I’ve already lived through this week.” I tried to keep my voice steady so I sounded as sane as possible. “And… something happened at the dance. Something awful.”
“And you’re telling us now because you need to talk about it?” Claire asked.
“No.” I straightened, leveling my gaze with theirs. “I’m telling you now because I have to stop it from happening again. I have to change the future.”
Monday, October 27
From there, I told them about the shooting, up until when I woke up here this morning. But while I gave them the major details, I didn’t mention how I’d been dating Jake in that life, and how I didn’t remember my relationship with Zac in this one. I couldn’t risk distracting them from my most important point—that we couldn’t go to that dance.
Saving lives had to come first.
When I finished, Claire stared at me with her mouth open, and Zac took a sip of his milk, as if trying to clear his mind.
“Now do you understand why we can’t go on Friday?” I asked.
Zac blew out a long breath between his hands. “This is some heavy stuff,” he said.
“But you believe me, right?”
Claire glanced at Zac, her eyes full
of doubt. Then she turned back to me. “You’re asking us to believe that you come from a different world, where your mom died last spring, and that on Friday night someone is going to come into school with a gun and shoot people.” She looked concerned, like she was genuinely worried about my sanity.
I didn’t blame her. It did sound crazy.
But I couldn’t sound like I doubted myself. Because I didn’t. I knew what had happened.
Now I had to convince them that it was true. And luckily, I’d spent the past few hours in my classes figuring out how to do just that.
“Yes.” I sat straighter, trying to sound as confident as possible. “That’s exactly what happened. Well, it’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
“Annabelle.” Claire said my name as if I was a little kid, and she pulled her hair over her shoulder. “We’ve been best friends for years, and I feel bad for saying this, but maybe you should talk to a professional?”
“Like a psychiatrist?” I asked.
She nodded that yes, that’s what she meant.
“That’s the last thing I should do,” I said. “They’ll never believe me. They’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Maybe not a psychiatrist.” Zac buried his fingers in his hair, focusing on the table. When he looked back up again, his eyes shined with determination. “But what about the cops? You know my dad’s a cop. He would say to report something like this immediately.”
“They would never believe me,” I said. “If I tell the cops, or a psychiatrist, the only person they’ll think should be locked up will be me.”
That hung in the air for a few seconds, with no one saying anything. Maybe they thought I should be locked up.
Was I wrong in confiding to them?
“Maybe you’re just stressed,” Claire said. “Stuff like this happens when people get stressed, right?”
“Stuff like what?” Zac asked. “Believing you’re from an alternate universe and that you’ve traveled back in time to stop a shooting from happening? I’ve never heard of that before.”
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