“Yes.” I sniffed, blinking away tears. “We loved each other. I still love him, but he won’t even look at me now. He doesn’t remember ever loving me. Do you know how much that hurts?”
“Yeah,” Zac muttered, sitting back in his chair. “I think I do.”
“I’m sorry,” I told him again. I wished I could say something more, but I loved Jake, not Zac. Nothing in the world could ever change that.
“So where did my Annabelle go in all of this?” he asked. “Because what we had together was real. That can’t just disappear. She can’t just disappear. I refuse to believe that she’s gone.”
“I don’t know.” I wiped a tear off my cheek. “I wish I knew, but I don’t.”
“Well, she’s my girlfriend, and I want her back,” he said. “This is her life—not yours. You need to let her come back.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” I said, because it was true.
But it was more than that. Because if she came back, then I wouldn’t be in this world anymore, where my mom was alive. And I wanted to stay here.
I didn’t want Annabelle to come back.
“Zac?” Claire said softly. “Maybe I should talk to Annabelle alone.”
“Shouldn’t we figure out how to stop the shooting?” he asked. “That was what we came here to talk about—before I found out that my girlfriend’s body has been taken over by a version of herself from another reality.” He turned to me, his eyes angry now. “Does Annabelle even exist anymore?”
“I exist.” I clenched my fists to my sides. “I’m different, but I’m still me.”
“But you don’t remember our relationship.”
“No.” I could barely get the word out, because I knew firsthand how devastated he was feeling. “I don’t.”
“Maybe we can fix this.” He reached for my hand, but I pulled away, clasping mine together in my lap. His eyes dropped, but he brought his arm back to his side and continued. “If I tell you about things we did together, your memories might come back to you. They have to come back to you. Like Memorial Day, when we all went out on my dad’s boat and you were sitting on the edge when a big wave came through and knocked you overboard. Claire said how much you hated the water, so I jumped in after you and helped you back up. We talked for the rest of the day, and when the sun was setting I asked you out. You said yes, and then I kissed you for the first time. You remember that, right?”
“No.” I shook my head sadly. “It sounds like a nice night, but it never happened for me.”
“It was more than ‘nice,’” he said. “It was perfect. You said so yourself.”
“Zac,” Claire said carefully. “I think Annabelle and I need some girl time right now. Why don’t the three of us meet tonight to discuss what we’re doing about Friday?”
“Fine.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “We’ll meet at my house after practice. But Annabelle… I won’t give up. You might not remember us being together, but you would want me to fight for you. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
He slammed the door behind him, and was gone.
Tuesday, October 28
I watched Zac leave, saying nothing. Because I knew how much this hurt. I felt it every time I saw Jake and realized that for this version of him, our memories together didn’t exist. They were gone forever, and I could feel the emptiness with every breath I took. It was like someone had ripped into my chest and crushed my heart, shattering it to pieces.
Nothing I said could make this easier for Zac.
“You really don’t remember your relationship with him?” Claire asked.
“I’ve read our text messages and seen our photos together, but it’s like I’m looking at someone else’s life,” I said. “The actual memories aren’t there.”
“Wow.” She glanced at where Zac had been sitting and twirled a piece of hair around her finger. “This is crazy. I mean, I believe you, but it’s a lot to take in.”
“I still can’t believe it all either,” I said. “But thanks for being here for me. I wouldn’t be able to go through this on my own.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” she said. “But Zac’s right.”
“About what?”
“That you would want him to fight for you. You care about him. Last weekend, at Liana’s party, you told me that you were falling in love with him.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t love Zac,” I said. “I love Jake.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “You stopped hanging out with Jake when you started seeing Zac,” she said. “Then, after Jake and Marisa became official, you said you couldn’t believe you were ever friends with either of them.”
“No.” I placed my palms flat on the table, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t say that. I definitely wouldn’t mean it. Maybe I was just upset that Jake was with Marisa and not with me.”
“I don’t know, Annabelle.” She bit her lip. “It didn’t seem like it.”
“And when did everyone start calling me by my full name?” I asked. “In my world, everyone still called me Anna.”
“It was because of Zac,” she said.
“No way.” I laughed. “I changed my name for a guy?”
“When you were talking with Zac on Memorial Day—at the boat party—he told you that he thought your full name is pretty,” she said. “Afterward, you told me every detail of the conversation. You were head over heels for him. He asked you why you went by a nickname when your actual name is so unique, and he’s been calling you Annabelle ever since. Then when we went to Europe, you tested out going by Annabelle, and it stuck. Everyone thinks of you as Annabelle now. It feels like forever ago that you went by Anna.”
“It was only two days ago for me,” I reminded her. “But thinking of her like that makes it easier to separate her from me. I’m Anna, and she’s Annabelle. We’re completely different people.”
“Maybe,” Claire said. “But do you think there’s a chance you’ll ever get your memories back?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed and rested my elbows on the table. “All I know is that Annabelle’s a stranger to me. She acts differently, she dresses differently, she doesn’t care as much about her grades, she has different friends, and a different boyfriend. I can’t believe that I changed so much in only a few months.”
“But you’re still you,” she said. “Yes, all those things are different, but you’re still my best friend.”
“We were friends before all of this, so it’s easier to think of us as being friends now,” I told her. “I have all of our memories from before March. I checked through my pictures yesterday to make sure, and they’re all there. It’s everything after March that’s changed.”
“Well, at least there’s that,” she said. “But I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“After your mom’s accident,” she clarified. “You said that I tried to be there for you, but that I ‘gave up and moved on with my life.’ I can’t imagine myself doing that. But apparently I did, and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”
“But the Claire from your world is still me. Her decisions are connected to mine.”
“Yes.” I tilted my head, thinking about it. “But also not. Because even though I don’t remember the trip to Europe, it seems like we became closer after all that time together. Our friendship seems stronger in this world.”
“We did get closer that summer.” She nodded. “If something awful like your mom’s accident happened to you now, I wouldn’t ‘go my separate way and move on with my life.’ We’re best friends. I would be there for you no matter what.”
“I know.” I smiled. “I can tell. It’s why you’re one of the only people I’m trusting with the truth.”
“And the other person is Zac…” She smiled and leaned forward, like she was ready for gossip. “Does that mean you’re thinking about giving him a chance? Because he deserves one. He w
ould do anything for you.”
“He would do anything for Annabelle,” I corrected her. “He doesn’t know me.”
“He does know you,” she said. “It’s you who doesn’t know him.”
“I don’t know.” I slumped back in my chair. “It’s confusing. I see the way he looks at me, and how happy we were in our pictures. I know that Annabelle cared for him… maybe she even loved him.”
“She did,” Claire said. “You did. And if you give him a chance, I know you will.”
“But I can’t, because I love Jake.” I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I missed Jake so much that just saying his name hurt. “When the shooting happened, he was the first one hit. Do you know what that feels like—seeing the person you love die and knowing there’s nothing you can do to save them?”
“No,” she said, her expressions solemn. “I don’t.”
“It’s terrifying,” I said. “But now I can change what will happen. I just need to get him to believe me.”
“Hold up.” She sat straighter. “Are you still talking about Jake?”
“Of course.”
“You do know that you haven’t spoken to him in months, right?”
“Yes.” I nodded, swallowing back tears. “I know.”
“And now you’re just going to tell him everything?”
“I have to do everything I can to save him,” I said, remembering how his eyes had gone blank as he died in my arms. I refused to let that happen again. “So after school, I’m finding him and telling him the truth.”
Tuesday, October 28
Once the bell rang at the end of the day, I hurried to the lot where Jake always parked. He was walking there alone, like I knew he would be since Marisa had her gym workout class after school today.
I hid behind a nearby SUV, watching him amble toward his car. Without Marisa attached to him, he looked like the same Jake from my world. Jeans, a t-shirt with a band name on it, dark messy hair that flopped to the side, and Nike sneakers that looked like they’d come straight from the eighties.
I wanted to run to him, throw my arms around him, and tell him everything that had happened to me. Then he would hold me and tell me how much he loves me and that we’ll get through Friday night and that everything will be okay.
But that wasn’t going to happen, because he wasn’t my Jake. He didn’t love me. He loved Marisa.
Every time I remembered that, my heart broke all over again.
He was also steps away from getting into his car, so I took a deep breath, bracing myself. Even though he didn’t remember our relationship, I’d been best friends with him before the timeline had split. Not all of our memories together were gone.
Only the ones where we’d been in love.
And in that world, he’d died in front of me.
My throat tightened, and I swallowed back tears. I would never get my Jake back. But this Jake—the one who I was looking at right now—he was here. He was alive. And he’d loved me once. I had to believe that he could love me again.
Plus, this was about more than our relationship. This was about saving his life.
I collected myself and stepped out from behind the SUV. “Jake!” I yelled, stopping him in his tracks.
He turned around, squinting in the sunlight. “Anna?” he asked.
My heart leaped at how familiar my name—my real name—sounded when he spoke it.
“Oh, wait.” He stepped back, his voice flat. “I guess it’s ‘Annabelle’ now.”
“No.” I walked across the parking lot and joined him at his car. I wanted to reach for him so badly—it was so hard to resist that I had to shove my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “Anna’s fine. It’s perfect.”
I searched his eyes for a sign that he recognized me—that he still cared about me—but he was looking at me as if I were a stranger.
Seeing him like this hurt so badly that I could barely breathe.
“What do you want?” he asked.
I froze, my tongue feeling like sandpaper in my mouth. After his cold reply to my text yesterday morning, I expected him to be wary when I approached him.
I didn’t think he was going to act like he hated me.
“I need to talk to you.” I shifted my feet and focused on the ground, not wanting to see the coldness in his eyes. “It’s important.”
“What are you even doing out here?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to be late for dance practice?”
“This is more important than dance practice,” I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “I came out here to find you.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but then he looked at me—really looked at me for the first time since we’d started talking—and he paused. “What’s so important that you’re chasing after me in the parking lot on a day you know Marisa won’t be here?” he finally asked.
“I didn’t plan it on purpose—”
“Save it, Anna,” he cut me off. “I know you better than that.”
“Fine,” I said. “You’re right. I needed to talk to you alone.”
“Well, you found me alone,” he said. “Now talk.”
I pointed to his car. “Can we go in there?”
He glanced around the parking lot, and my stomach dropped at the thought that he was about to say no.
“I don’t want anyone to overhear,” I added. “It’s hard to explain why right now, but you’ll understand after I tell you. Please?”
“Fine.” He flipped his hair out of his eyes and opened the door. “Get in. But only because you’re being so weird about this that I can’t pretend I’m not curious.”
Tuesday, October 28
“Let me get this straight,” he said after I told him the entire story. “You’re telling me that you’re from a parallel universe? And that in this parallel universe, your mom passed away in a car accident last spring, you and me were counselors at camp together last summer, we started dating while there, and then we went to the Halloween dance together, where we got shot?”
“Yeah?” It came out like a question, because when he said it that way, it did sound crazy. “If not that, then this—right now—is all a dream. And I don’t think it is.”
“Okay.” He took a deep breath and rested his wrists on the steering wheel. “Let’s say you’re right, and you’re from a parallel universe. How did you get here?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I can’t find anything about that online. All I know is that I heard another gunshot, there was an awful pain in my head, and I woke up here.”
“So you were shot in the head, and that ‘pushed’ you into this universe.” He spoke so flatly, I could tell he didn’t believe it.
“Maybe?” I said. “I mean, sure. That could be what happened.”
“That’s impossible.” He leaned back in his seat and stared out the windshield. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull on me—if you’re playing a prank because you know I love science fiction—but I’m not falling for it. Now, get out of the car. I’m going home.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” I said. “And I can prove it.”
“Really?” He tilted his head and leaned closer, challenging me. “How?”
“Because I know what’s going to happen tomorrow night on Doomed.”
“You watch Doomed?” He laughed. “No way.”
“Yes, I watch it.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s the best show on television. Sure, I was resistant at first—the trailers looked gory—but you insisted I give it a chance. Now we watch it together every week. Or at least we did where I come from.”
“It’s definitely the best show on television,” he agreed. “Because it—”
“Has the craziest twists.”
We said it at the same time, and the energy between us was so intense that I could barely breathe.
He scratched his head. “How did you know I was going to say that?”
“Because I know you, Jake,” I said. “Every week after th
e episode ends, you say how it’s the best show because it has the craziest twists. We look online for theories about what will happen next, and no one can ever guess what’s coming. But this week, I know what’s going to happen. Because I’ve already seen tomorrow’s episode.”
“Okay then, Anna-from-another-universe,” he said. “If you know what’s going to happen on tomorrow’s episode, then prove it.”
That was all I needed to launch into a detailed play by play of everything that was going to happen on the show tomorrow night. Jake sat on the edge of his seat, transfixed by every word.
“At the end, Mia realizes that the only way she can earn the trust of the people already living on the planet is by killing Zane, so she stabs him and leaves him to die,” I finished. “The episode ends with us not knowing if he lives or not.”
“No way,” Jake said. “Mia loves Zane. She wouldn’t do that to him.”
“She doesn’t love Zane.” I smiled smugly. “She’s using him so she can escape the planet. But don’t worry—in the preview for next week they show him opening his eyes, so we know he didn’t die. And he’ll be out for her with a vengeance.”
“So let’s say you’re right, and you know what’s going to happen on Doomed because you’re from a parallel universe,” he said. “Then what?” The bridge of his nose creased, like it always did when he was thinking hard about something. “You said someone was going to come to the dance with a gun and shoot people. How are we supposed to stop that?”
“We’ll figure it out together.” I laid my hand on top of his, hoping it would trigger a memory for him of us being together.
His eyes met mine, and my breath caught at the possibility that it had worked. That he remembered.
But he sat back and yanked his hand away, fumbling for his seatbelt. “You should go.” His voice was cold and distant. “We don’t want anyone to see us in the car together and get the wrong idea.”
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