In a Holidaze by Christina Lauren

chapter twenty-two

Istep away from the broken glass and shards of metal that litter the sidewalk nearby, Theo moving behind me. Once the onlookers’ attention moves from the accident in the street to the aftermath all around us, a fair amount of concern is thrown our way, as the two bodies in the immediate vicinity of the crash.

With the scavenger hunt now completely forgotten, our families frantically run over as soon as they spot us in the middle of the chaos. For a few minutes following the relief that no one was gravely injured, Theo and I are drowning in the adrenaline of what everyone saw, what happened, and how close it was. Andrew hugs me, checks that I’m okay, and presses breathless lips to my hair until the others crowd in for their turn. But smack in the center of my stomach is a leaden ball of dread.

I search for him again, seeking his arms and steadying I gaze, but it’s already locked in silent communication with his brother. Very quietly, Andrew says, “I don’t understand why you’re mad.”

“Don’t lie, Drew. You get it.” Theo digs his hands into his pockets and looks around self-consciously as the rest of the group falls into a hush, realizing there’s another conversation happening.

Ricky steps closer, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Hey. Guys. What’s happening here?”

Theo shrugs out of Ricky’s grip. “Stay out of it, Dad.”

Ricky frowns. “What am I missing?”

I want to disappear. My eyes shoot skyward. Kidding!

Theo lifts his chin to Andrew. “Go ahead. You tell him.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Not right now. Not the time.”

“Tell me what?” Ricky asks.

Andrew looks at me then, his expression searching for permission, and I feel the way awareness spreads in a silent wave around the circle. Maybe it’s how Miles looks down at the ground, or Benny steps closer to me, shoulder to shoulder in solidarity, but anyone with even a modicum of emotional intelligence must know what’s being left unsaid.

Well, I guess except Ricky. “Seriously. What’s going on?”

“Maybe we can do this when we get home,” Benny says quietly.

I look gratefully at Benny—the last thing I want is a scene, and I’d prefer to tell my mom myself—but Theo exhales sharply: “Mae and Andrew are hooking up.”

What reaction he was expecting, I have no idea. But the group falls deadly silent before swinging their collective attention to me and Andrew.

“What is considered ‘hooking up’ these days?” Lisa asks quietly, and my stomach drops in mortification.

“Wait,” Ricky says. “Sorry, I feel like I missed something.”

“Whatever.” Theo turns to walk down the sidewalk. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Theo.” I chase after him, jogging to keep up with his long strides, and reach out to grab the sleeve of his jacket, but he tugs free. “Wait.”

I hop over a patch of ice and slow to a bewildered stop in front of a small ice cream shop that’s closed for the season. Is he seriously just running away?

“Theo!” I shout, but he keeps going. I take another step and then freeze at the sound of a metallic groan, followed immediately by a cacophonous crash just behind me.

Turning, heart hammering inside my chest, I see that the metal frame beneath the shop’s awning has crumpled, plummeting to the sidewalk not a foot away from where I stand. The innocent patch of ice I stepped around is now buried beneath it.

I turn my face up to the sky. “What?” I throw my arms out. “What am I supposed to do? Am I not supposed to follow Theo? Am I supposed to just stand near Andrew? What! Just tell me!”

Benny comes over, a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Mae. Honey. Calm down, it was just an accident.”

“It wasn’t, though.” Hysteria has taken over my brain, my blood, my pulse. It pours through me, silvery and hot, obliterating anything rational or measured. “The car crash? This?” I motion wildly at the twisted mess of fabric and metal. “Clearly it was my fault.”

Dad steps forward, gently murmuring, “Mae,” with Andrew right at his side. “Honey, what’s wrong?” He looks to Benny. “What is she talking about?”

Andrew comes close, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Maisie. What’s going on?”

I look past him to Benny. “I can’t act like this isn’t happening anymore. It’s exhausting. I don’t know how to keep the act up.”

Benny gives me a helpless look.

I turn to Andrew, and then my dad and my brother. I scan my eyes across the group. “I’m stuck in some sort of time loop, and I don’t know how to get out of it. I mean,” I say, “a few days ago, I wanted out of it so bad. But now I don’t want to mess it up.”

Andrew takes my hand. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

Benny clears his throat. “We think Mae is in a Groundhog Day–type scenario. She’s been to the cabin a few times, and each time she gets injured and then wakes up back on the plane on December twentieth.”

Andrew lets out a little incredulous laugh. Everyone looks around at each other like, Are we all hearing the same thing?

“I’m trying to keep track of everything,” I admit, “and I realize this sounds crazy, but I’m scared something terrible is going to happen, so can everyone just take a few steps away from me?”

No one moves.

“Please,” I plead, and pull my hand out of Andrew’s grip. “Back up.”

My composure feels like a string being slowly dragged along the serrated edge of a blade. I turn to my brother, who is watching with wide, worried eyes. “Miles. Punch me.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “What?”

“In the face. Hard.”

A few voices murmur my name in pity, but I’m not having it. “Punch me. I want to go back to the plane.”

“Mae, I’m not going to—”

“Punch me!”

He takes a step behind Benny, looking to our dad for help, and then I realize that Ricky has picked up Kennedy, that Lisa is holding Zachary, and that everyone—even Andrew—is looking at me like they’re afraid of me.

I turn and run away down the street. I don’t know where I’m going. I’m praying with everything I have that all of this ends and I wake up in seat 19B. Take me away from this nightmare.

The only voice I hear behind me is Benny’s gentle “Let her go, Dan. She needs to be alone.”

• • •

Two hours later, Benny walks into the small diner where I’ve been sitting. He does a brief scan of the interior, spots me, exhales in relief, and makes his way over.

I’m sipping my fourth cup of coffee, hands vibrating as I shred a napkin into smaller and smaller pieces. Pretty soon they’ll be microscopic, a smattering of dust on the Formica tabletop. A tinsel-covered Christmas tree stands in the corner, glittery paper snowflakes flutter overhead, and a small rock fireplace burns nearby. None of it helps. None of it makes me feel anything.

“Hey, Mayonnaise,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head.

When I don’t reply with a silly name, he pulls out the chair opposite me and sits down. “You’re not answering your phone,” he says. I can see the worry in the tiny lines around his eyes, the downturn of his mouth.

“I turned it off.” The bell rings over the door as a couple of teenagers come inside. “Is Theo okay?”

“Everyone’s fine. We’re all worried.”

“I sound insane,” I say. “There’s no way to explain this to them. I’ve been sitting here for two hours, and Andrew hasn’t tried to come find me. I’m going to be terrified of something horrible happening to me every second for the rest of this trip—maybe every second for the rest of my life—and everyone must think that I’m losing my grip.”

He winces sympathetically. “If it makes you feel better, they all wanted to come find you. You didn’t scare Andrew away, I just told him to give you some space.”

The opening notes to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” play through the diner speakers. I cast my eyes toward the ceiling. “Did you know they’ve played this song every twenty-two minutes?”

He doesn’t give any outward response to this, just lets me silently work through my thoughts. Groaning, I bend to rest my forehead on my arms. “Benny, I realized something while I was sitting here.”

His hand comes over my arm. “What’s that?”

“I asked the universe to show me what would make me happy.”

“I thought we already knew that.” He sounds confused.

“No,” I say, pushing myself back up to face him. “I mean, I asked it to show me. I didn’t say, ‘Give me what will make me happy,’ or ‘Let me be happy forever.’ I said, ‘Show me what will make me happy.’ So, it showed me, but clearly I don’t know how to handle it, or what to do, and I can’t keep pretending everything is normal.”

Benny shakes his head, brows low. “Mae, this doesn’t have to be so complicated. Just go tell Andrew what you told me. Explain to him what’s going on with you. Andrew is smart. Of any of us, he’ll be open to the idea that the world isn’t always what we think it is.”

“Well, that’s the problem.” I feel a hundred years old. “How do I explain it? How do I show him?”

“The same way you did with me.”

I shake my head. “But the first time it happened, and I talked to you, it was the beginning of the holiday. Things were still happening the way I remembered. I could point things out in advance, because they hadn’t changed.” I shred my napkin a little more. “But now everything has changed. I don’t even know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know how to prove to him that I’m not making this up.”

“What about what you said about Ricky and Lisa selling the cabin?”

“He already knows about that. And I’ve been talking about it, asking about it. It isn’t that big a leap for me to guess that they were going to tell us eventually.”

“Come on, Noodle. Let’s head back.”

Pulling my coffee closer, I hug it like it’s my last true friend. “I needed to make some changes anyway. This table is my home now. Forward my mail.”

Laughing, Benny reaches into his back pocket, fishing out his wallet. “You’ll feel better after you talk to Andrew.”

“Are they all waiting at the van?”

He shakes his head and pulls a clean hundred-dollar bill out, dropping it on the table. “They all headed back a while ago.” He stands. “We can take a cab.”

I stare at the bill on the table. “Holy Benjamin Franklin. My coffee was, like, four dollars.”

“I don’t have anything smaller on me.”

“Let me just pay with my debit card.” I start to stand, but he puts a hand on my arm.

“Mae. I got it. It’s almost Christmas, and this nice little restaurant has kept you safe from cars and awnings and all other dangerous flying objects.” He shrugs. “You ever hear of Spotify?”

“Uh, yeah?”

He grins. “I got in early.”

“How early?”

“Early.” He lifts his chin to the door. “Let’s go.”