<blockquote ss="chapquote">
<em>I’ve left my initials somewhere inside of every library book I’ve checked out since the second grade.</em></blockquote><h3 ss="h2">THE SECOND VALENTINE’S DAY
When my phone started ying “Walking on Sunshine” at six o’clock, I blinked and squinted to see my phone in the dark. Six? I felt like I hadn’t slept at all. Like I’d <i>just</i> gone to—
Wait, what?
I stared at the glow-in-the-dark stickers I’d put on my ceiling in middle school. When had Ie home? I pushed back the covers and got out of bed, looking at Logan’s wide-open little mouth as hey sprawled across my mattress. I remembered going to bed at Grandma’s the night before, but I couldn’t remember leaving her house.
I’d been wiped out, though. The day from hell had sucked every bit of life from me, so it was entirely possible I’d been so out of it that I didn’t remember Grandma bringing me home.
I nced at my nner, lying open to February 14 on my desk, just like it’d been the day before.<blockquote ss="todolist">
<span id="page_42" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 42">To-Do List—February 14
Reorganize schrship nning binder
Study for Lit test
Remind Mom to email copy of insurance card to office
Remind Dad of parent-teacher conferences and make sure he puts it on his calendar
Send email to internship adviser
Exchange gifts with Josh
Say “I love you” to Josh!!!!!!!!!!!</blockquote>
I blinked fast as everything from Valentine’s Day rushed back. Josh and Macy, the summer program, my dad—every single part of my life was demolished in just one day.
I quickly flipped the page and jotted a new—and suckier—to-do list. The items that hadn’t been decimated the day before actually hadn’t beenpleted, which never happened. I was usually a stickler about checking those boxes, but the Valentine’s Day shit show had made me forget my nner entirely.<blockquote ss="todolist">
To-Do List—February 15
Talk to Josh about the kiss
Make decision on Texas move
Reorganize schrship nning binder
Study for Lit test
Remind Mom to email copy of insurance card to office
Remind Dad of parent-teacher conferences and make sure he puts it on his calendar</blockquote>
<span id="page_43" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 43">I grabbed my robe and went into the bathroom to shower. I started the water and stepped in, letting it pour over my head, scalding and sliding down my neck as tears involuntarily started up again.
“Em, are you almost done in there?”
<i>Seriously?</i> “I just got in here.”
“Joel needs to go potty.” Lisa sounded like her mouth was once again nted on the door. “Bad.”
“There is a bathroom upstairs.” I forcefully squirted shampoo into my hand. I wasn’t in the mood for a battle. Not after yesterday.
“Your dad’s in there.”
I was going to strangle someone with my bath sponge. “Just this once, can you maybe ask my dad to get out? I didn’t get much sleepst night and I really need this shower.”
“You know how your dad is in the morning.”
<i>Holy. Balls</i>. “Give me two minutes!” I rushed through the rest of the shower, muttering through gritted teeth like a grumpy old man while mming bottles down as hard as I possibly could.
Back in my room, I blow-dried my hair before sliding intofy pants and my favorite Northwestern hoodie, a wardrobe selection made wholly out of poutiness. I wanted absolutely zero human interaction, so I put on headphones as I entered the kitchen. No way was I going to discuss the whole Texas thing without a little more sleep.
Luckily no one was in the kitchen, so I wolfed down a bar as fast as I could while reading the next chapter of the Christina Lauren book that I’d promised to return to Rox when I got to school. Maybe if I finished quickly, I wouldn’t have to see another per—
<span id="page_44" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 44">“Good Lord, slow down.” My dad walked in with the newspaper in his hand. “No one here knows the Heimlich.”
I pulled the headphones down to my neck. “Ha, ha.” <i>Yesterday was hrious. Funny, funny stuff, Dad</i>.
“So.” He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and put it under the Keurig. “Did you wrap up the way-too-expensive present you bought for ol’ Josh? Lots of cheesy red hearts and ‘I love you’s?”
“What?” I swallowed and the bar felt stuck in my throat. “You want to know if I wrapped his present? Yesterday?”
He raised an eyebrow and pushed the middle button. “I just assumed you’d be all amped for Valentine’s Day, but I see you’re wearing sweats and looking grouchy, so maybe not. Did I miss something?”
What was he even talking about? I had no idea so I just went with—“You know what happens when you assume, right?”
“Yeah, someone’s an ass.”
“Oh,e on, you guys.” Lisa came into the kitchen with Logan on one hip, Joel on the other. “Can we please not swear around the babies?”
Were they kidding me?
“They weren’t in here when he said it, remember?”
“And technically,” my dad said, throwing me a wink exactly the way he’d done the day before, “?‘ass’ isn’t a bad word. It’s a donkey.”
I felt my eyes squinch up as I looked at my dad and then at Lisa. Were they trying to be funny, or something? Yeah, no—she still looked at me as if she wished I would disappear.
<span id="page_45" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 45">I grabbed my backpack and my car keys before remembering the van. “Aw, jeez, I forgot about the wreck. Can either of you give me a ride to school?”
“What wreck?” Lisa set Joel down and shifted Logan to her other hip, looking at my dad. “She wrecked the van?”
Before I could answer, my dad said, “No, she didn’t wreck the van. I just went out and scraped the windows, remember?”
“Well, then, what did she mean about the wreck?” Lisa looked at him, and he looked at me and said, “No idea. What did you mean, Em?”
I looked around him and out the kitchen window. There, in the driveway, was my Astro van with the windows scraped. I pointed. “Where did thate from?”
“What, your car?” My dad looked at me like I was being a goof. He didn’t look—at all—like someone who was pranking me. “I’d say Detroit. You know, because GM…?”
I nced at Lisa and she tilted her head a little and crinkled her eyebrows. “Em?”
“Um, I, uh, I was just messing.” I tried for a smile and pushed toward the door. “I’ve got to go.”
The sun was bright when I stepped outside and I squinted as I carefully walked in the fresh snow by the front of my car. Not only was it not smashed, but it didn’t even have a single, solitary scratch on it.
<i>How?</i>
I climbed inside and started it up, my mind scrambling to figure <span id="page_46" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 46">out what the deal was. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket. Chris and Rox were FaceTiming me.
I pressed the button to answer and there they were, looking exactly as they had the day before, faces squished together in the junior hallway.
“Guess what I just saw?” Chris asked.
“I want to tell,” Rox whined, pushing at him while grinning.
“I can’t talk right now—I’ll call you back.” I disconnected as my mind flipped over like a T-shirt in a dryer. Things were bonkers all of a sudden. I backed out of FaceTime, and my eyesnded on the calendar on my phone.
<i>FEB 14</i>.
My phone said it was “FEB 14.” But… it wasn’t. It was the fifteenth.
Right?
Out loud, I said, “Hey, Siri, what is today’s date?” and her little robotic voice confirmed—it was the fourteenth.
<i>Huh?</i>
I started driving toward school, confused, until it hit me.
I <i>dreamed</i> about the very terrible Valentine’s Day. I <i>had</i> been excitedly looking forward to the big day; it made sense I would dream about it, right? It was like when little kids dream about Christmas.
So I hadn’t already had a terrible Valentine’s Day; it had all been just a bad and slightly psychic dream.
I let out a big breath and smiled.
I floored it, because I couldn’t wait to see Josh. I wished I’d <span id="page_47" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 47">opted for better than a baggy sweatshirt, but that didn’t seem important anymore because I still had <i>him</i>. I could already picture him, looking all cute in one of his id button-downs, hanging out in themons, and I couldn’t wait to be by his side and shake off the wildly bad dream.
My phone buzzed on the passenger seat and I nced over. <i>Josh</i>.
Happy VD, baby. Are you here yet?
Ha! That’s exactly what he’d typed in my dr—
I looked up and the truck in front of me had stopped. <i>Noooooo!</i> I mmed my foot on the brake, but it didn’t help.
I hit Nick’s ugly truck—again.
<i>Just like in my dream</i>.
I got out.
“You were texting, weren’t you?”
“Please, not again.”
“You were texting. Admit it.”
“Nick Stark, so help me God, I might throat-punch you if you say that again.”
This time he raised his eyebrows. “Come again?”
My brain tried to wrap around what was happening. I pointed at myself and said, “Emilie Hornby, yourb partner. And I wasn’t texting.”
He actually grinned when I said that, the corners of his mouth turning up as his eyes moved over my face. “You doing okay here?”
“Wonderful.” I rolled my eyes and went through the motions, everything eerily the same as the day before. It was obvious he didn’t think he’d ever met me before, and I felt cloudy as I <span id="page_48" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 48">struggled to figure it out. My hand shook as I handed over my insurance card. Was this déjà vu? Had I dreamed about Valentine’s Day?
Was I actually psychic?
I didn’t even attempt to call my parents when the cops and the tow truck arrived. I silently epted his proffered coat and rode to school with Nick, who must’ve sensed my inner turmoil because he didn’t say a word. I listened to Metallica barking out the lyrics to “ckened,” and this time the music seemed a bit more fitting. It perfectly entuated my WTF morning.
As Nick drove, I studied his profile. His dark hair, prominent Adam’s apple, hard jawline, tall body—all the same as in my dream.
Just for fun, I looked out the window and said, “I love Metallica so much.”
His eyebrows went straight up. “Seriously?”
<i>Not at all seriously</i>. But I had to test the upside-down, repetitive-day universe, didn’t I? “Sure. I like their rage—it’s almost like you can <i>feel</i> it, y’know?”
His mouth turned all the way up and he looked at me like we were soul mates. “Well said, Hornby.”
I looked back at him and wondered how I would ever get out of the dream sequence. Was it my fate to crash into him every morning for all of eternity? I knew that couldn’t be right and there had to be <i>some</i> exnation, but I was really starting to get freaked out. <i>I’ll pretend that I’m all right and everything will be fine—</i>it’d always worked for me in the past. When we got to school, I stood on shaky legs after getting out of his truck. I don’t know why, but <span id="page_49" role="doc-pagebreak" ariabel="page 49">as I handed back his coat, I asked him, “Everything is going to be okay, right?”
He looked down at the coat for a minute, like he was trying to interpret my question. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it?”