The First Last Day (9 page)

No. He'd never believe me.

Still, I knew if anyone could help me solve the mystery, it was Kevin.

I looked up from the list as he strolled in, wearing that same shirt with Captain America on it. As he slipped into the booth, I made a split-second decision. I took a deep breath and whispered at rapid speed, “Listen, I have something really important to tell you. You may not believe me. But you've got to help me. No matter what. Promise?”

Kevin's eyes widened. “What is it? Are you okay? Did something happen to you?”

“No. Well, yes. Sort of. Just tell me you'll believe
what I say—even though it'll sound impossible.”

Kevin's expression changed, and it reminded me of the look on his face every night when he came through the door. “Of course I'll believe you. You know you can count on me for
anything
.”

The way he said “anything” made me believe him with my whole heart. “Okay, I'm going to talk fast because we don't have a lot of time.”

“You're scaring me,” Kevin said.

“Don't be scared. Just listen.” The words flew from my mouth, almost at the speed of light.

Kevin's eyes were glued to mine as I spoke. His expression remained serious.

But the second I finished, he broke into a huge grin. “You had me going there for a while.”

I'd expected that might happen. “Honest,” I said. “I've done enough research to know we can't explain everything about space and time. And I'm telling the truth.”

“Sure you are.” He laughed and shook his head.

I had to do something to make him believe me. As soon as I spotted Annie walking our way, I ripped a small piece of paper off the bottom of the list and
wrote on it. I folded it into a tiny square, slid it across the table, and demanded, “Don't open this until Annie leaves.”

Kevin ordered the usual and I asked for a bowl of banana nut granola. We had our everyday conversation with Annie. Then her eyes welled up just before Joey flipped the pancake, and it landed on the floor.

As soon as Annie left, I pointed to the folded square. “Go ahead, open it.”

Kevin unfolded the note and read what I'd written:
Splat! Joey just dropped a pancake on the floor.
Kevin looked puzzled at first, but then smiled. “That was a pretty good trick.”

“Trick? What do you mean?”

“You were here before me. You must have made a deal with Joey to drop the pancake.”

“No. No. I didn't talk to Joey at all. Go ask him. I knew it would happen because it happens every day. Because
every day is the same
.”

Kevin put the note on the table. “Even if you didn't talk to Joey, it's not that surprising that he dropped the pancake. He is kind of clumsy. Remember that time he knocked the wooden ark full of muffins off the counter?”

“Okay, you have a point.”

Kevin nodded. “Let's see if you can tell me something else that'll happen.”

I rattled off a list of events, starting with Mateo's joke from the Popsicle stick and everything after that, including building the stegosaurus and helping G-Mags cook.

“I guess those things might happen,” Kevin said with a wrinkled brow. “But now that you've put them into my head, we'll probably do all those things.”

“What about Mateo's joke?”

“You could have planted the Popsicle stick so he'd find it.”

“Why would I go to all that trouble?”

Kevin's eyes narrowed. “That's what I can't figure out. So far, none of this makes sense.”

“Okay, let me give you more proof. Later, you're going to tell me you have to go back home to get something to surprise me.”

Kevin straightened up in his seat.

“And then you're going to show up on the boardwalk wearing a cow suit.”

Kevin's mouth fell open. “I . . . I talked to my mom
before I came here. She was cleaning out the house and told me she found my cow suit. I told her she should bring it when they come later today.”

I gave a tentative smile. “See. How could I have known that?”

Kevin shook his head. “This is crazy.”

“No crazier than all those sci-fi films you love. Look at how many things in those old movies have come true: robots that clean your house, wristwatches that you talk to, computers that can do almost anything.”

“But that's not magic. That's science.”

“Maybe this is too. I don't know. All I know is that we have to stop it.”

“How?”

“I have to find out where the paints came from. Will you help me?”

He looked at me with a confused expression. I could tell he still thought I was joking, and I knew there was one thing I could say that would convince him I wasn't.

I hesitated. “There's something I didn't mention.”

“What is it?”

“At the end of the day . . . something bad happens.”

“Go on.”

I lowered my eyes and shook my head. “I can't say it.”

“C'mon,” Kevin said. “You have to tell me.”

Without looking up, I whispered, “It's G-Mags.”

“What happens to her?”

“She . . . she has a stroke.”

“So are you saying that if I help you find out who gave you the paints, we can fix things, and she'll be okay? She won't have a stroke?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“No? Then why are you telling me this?”

“In the beginning, I tried to warn her. I really did. I thought maybe that was why this happened. So I could prevent her from having it, but . . .”

He leaned across the table. “But what?”

“But I could never stop it from happening.”

Kevin put his head in his hands for a few seconds and then looked up. His face was red. “What's going on?” He looked around. “Is someone making you do this?”

“No. I'm telling you the truth.”

“It's impossible.”

“I know. I know it's crazy. But I swear it's true.”

“Then what happens afterward?”

“The ambulance takes her to the hospital.”

“Then what?”

“I don't know. In the morning, everything's always the same as the day before.”

Kevin grabbed his backpack and raced out of Annie's. I threw some money on the table and followed him, yelling, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

When I finally caught up to him, he turned to me with hurt in his eyes. “Do you think you're funny—trying to fool me? I might have gone along with the joke, but I can't believe you took it this far.” His voice cracked. “I can't believe you brought G-Mags into it.”

“You have to believe me. I would never joke about something like that. It's true.”

“It can't be. There's no such thing as magic.”

I sped up to keep pace with him. “I thought so too. But I know what's been happening to me. And there's no other explanation.”

He stopped to face me. “Are you really telling me the truth? Do you swear that if you're lying, you'll rip up every drawing in your sketchbook?”

“I swear,” I said. “I'll destroy it all.”

He was quiet for a few seconds and then took a deep breath.
“I know how much those sketches mean to you. So, even if what you're saying is impossible, even if it's not true at all, you must believe it's true.”

“I do.”

“Then shouldn't you have been able to help G-Mags?”

“Believe me, I tried. In the beginning I told your parents to call 911 when she got her first dizzy spell, but no one would listen. They thought I was overreacting. Then I looked up stroke prevention online to see if there was something I could do. I even called an ambulance to the house a bunch of times. But nothing I did could prevent it from happening.”

“Maybe you didn't try hard enough.” There was a hint of anger in his voice.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “But if there's one thing I've figured out all these weeks, it's that some things are meant to be. I've been able to change certain things, like what I eat or whether I go with you to Atlantic City. But there are some things I just can't change. And G-Mags having a stroke is one of them.”

“I still don't believe you!”

“Okay, even if I'm lying, don't you think it's worth
pretending
to believe me? To try and save G-Mags?”

“Maybe. I don't know.” He collapsed onto a nearby bench. “You've got me so confused.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”

He rubbed his temples over and over. “Even if you
are
telling the truth? What can I do?”

“I don't know.”

“I have to do something to try and save her. Make her go to the hospital.
Something
.”

“Maybe she'll listen to you,” I said. “I don't know. Go home and see. I'll wait for you here on the boardwalk.”

W
hile Kevin was away, I ran home and stuffed the box of paints in my backpack. When I returned to the bench, I waited for almost an hour, wondering if I'd done the right thing, wondering if Kevin would come back. I knew no matter what, he'd forget all of it the next morning, but I couldn't stand the thought of him hating me, even for just one day.

I tried to take my mind off things by watching people cruise along the boardwalk.

Two little kids giggled as frozen custard dripped
down their cones. The parents, holding large cinnamon elephant ears, urged the boy and girl to hurry up.

Weeks ago, my mouth would have watered at the sight. But Mom was right. Dessert was no fun when you could eat it all the time.

I was just about to give up on Kevin when I spotted him heading slowly toward me. His shoulders were slumped. “She didn't believe it,” he said, sitting beside me on the bench. “I tried to get her to call the doctor. But she said she felt fine.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It isn't your fault.”

I nodded, but deep down I felt like it was.

“You said the same thing happens to her every night? It must be so scary for her.”

“For you, too,” I said, remembering the look on his face each night. “There's something else I haven't told you.”

“About G-Mags?”

“No, about my mom.”

“Does something happen to her, too?”

“Not today. But . . .”

“But what? Tell me.”

“I'm pretty sure she's having a baby.”

“Wow, really? How do you know?”

“She has all the symptoms: she sleeps a lot, she's making all of us eat healthier, and she's extra crazy when it comes to germs.”

“You're sure she's not just sick?”

“I don't think so—except for morning sickness and stuff like that. So, you see why I have to get us out of this time loop? If I don't, my new brother or sister will never be born.”

“And I'll never see Michael again? Or grow up and go to college?”

“Right.”

“Or finish my movie?”

I shook my head. “You've been filming the same thing for weeks and weeks.”

“But what will happen to G-Mags if time moves forward?”

I hugged my backpack to my chest and whispered, “I don't know.”

“Is there a chance we can save her?”

“Maybe.”

Kevin stared out at the beach for a long while, as
if he were doing a complicated math problem in his head. Finally, he looked at me and said, “I'm still not sure I believe you. But since you believe it, I'll help you. Show me the paints.”

I pulled the yellow box from my backpack and opened the flap. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

Kevin reached for one of the tubes and shook his head. “They look really old.”

“I know.”

“Why would someone give you a paint set and not even tell you they gave it to you?”

“That's what I want to know.” I took out the list I'd shown him earlier.

“These are all the places we went. I need you to help me figure out where I might have left my backpack on that first day. If I find out who gave them to me, maybe I can discover how they work. And I can undo what happened.”

Kevin looked at the list. “I remember doing some of these things—we've done most of them every day. But why can't I remember building a stegosaurus or making cannolis or going to Atlantic City?”

“Because, technically, you didn't do them yet.”

“Wait a minute!” Kevin jumped up from the bench. “There's this theory I read about. I thought it was only in science fiction. But maybe it's real.”

“What is it? Tell me!”

“It's called the many-worlds theory. Some scientists think that for each minute, more than one possible future exists. And all these futures can be happening at the same time.”

“What would that have to do with what's happening to me?”

“Maybe we're living in parallel universes. Maybe it's only in
your
universe where you're living the same day over and over—because of the painting. But in
my
universe, summer's over, and we're already back in school.”

“But how do I get time moving again? I don't want to stay trapped in August twenty-sixth in any universe.”

“I don't know,” Kevin said. “I'm not sure what to believe or how this is possible. But if you're telling the truth, we've got to do something.” He waved the paint box in the air. “You're sure it has something to do with these?”

I nodded and breathed a grateful sigh that he believed me.

“So how do we find out where they came from?”

I looked up at him. “I've been thinking . . . we need to go through this whole day with you filming it.”

“But if you already have the paints, there won't be any film of the person sticking them into your backpack.”

“I thought of that. But if I can study all the different people we came in contact with, maybe I'll get some clues about which one of them it could be.” I took the list from Kevin and folded it. “We've got to go about our usual day, and then tonight, when we get back from Atlantic City, we'll look at your tape and see who looks suspicious.”