Day 1:

It's been about a month that I've been trapped in this parallel universe, and in some ways it's been growing on me. My day follows a predictable routine: wake up at 6:15, eat some sort of fancy breakfast, go to classes on autopilot, chat with Mr. T, stand somewhere in the back of the club meeting, finish my classes, walk home, play piano, read, repeat. It's that I know my decisions have little consequence, and that's comforting too. I've taken no leadership roles, nor have I done anything to distinguish myself beyond being polite to my peers.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I took a vacation somewhere. I'm an unaccompanied minor, so it would be hard to travel far, but imagine if I just blew a bunch of money and went to Hong Kong or something. Heller couldn't even contact my parents if they tried. Do I have parents? When I walk to school now, I daydream about visiting foreign countries. Sometimes I think about home instead: my real friends, that really bad electric piano I need to replace, my cat. I miss them. I miss them too much.

School was unremarkable today. I have no homework for tomorrow, nor did I have any tests today. So all of it was boring worksheets and lectures that at this point come second nature to me. Maybe tomorrow will be more exciting.

Day 2:

Fate has played a cruel joke on me—and has clearly been reading my diary. What gave it away to me at first wasn't that the New York Times homepage was the same, but that French toast was on the menu for breakfast once again. And of course my morning alarm is still the Groundhog Day one. The funniest thing is that my diary still has my entry from the last iteration of today. How does that work?

Immediately I set about identifying what it was I had done yesterday to deserve being sent back to the same day—it wasn't as if September 17th were a holiday. Truly, there was nothing, and by the time I had reached Heller I could find no guiding purpose to my actions that previous day. But that previous day, now, was today.

I made no indication in any of my classes I had seen the same day already, until I had my TA period with Mr. T. He'd know what to do if I approached him frankly:

"Mr. T, I think I'm stuck in a Groundhog Day loop," I said deadpan, and he reacted similarly:

"Oh yeah, that happens to me all the time. Have I told you the code word yet?"

"What code word?"

"I tell everyone who tells me they're stuck in a time loop to greet me with the word 'boulangerie,' so that I know immediately they're stuck in a time loop. I assume this is your first repetition, then, if you didn't know that?"

"It is. So what do I do?" I asked, desperation not quite having sunk in yet.

"You can start by filing these papers—you've done this before, so it should be easy."

The most frustrating part about time loops, I realized, is that you can't suddenly shirk your duties because you think your actions are fruitless. If the flow of time were to suddenly continue, you would be left behind.

"So why do you think I'm stuck in this loop?"

"Well, we have two examples of historic precedent I can think of off the top of my head. In Groundhog Day, Phil Connors was forced to learn to become a better person: over the film, he metamorphosed from a closed-off jerk into someone who was willing to be kind, not knowing if it would ever reward him. Happy Death Day has a more fundamental premise: the protagonist, a sorority girl, needs to figure out who tries to murder her every day. The commonality there is that both characters have a mission, something they need to accomplish. It's not just a Sisyphean punishment."

"What's my mission then?"

"That's for you to discover."

I felt like I had unbounded potential, somewhat ironic given I was stuck in a club meeting, but I had no idea how to use it. You'd think with my superior knowledge of the world around me, I'd have launched a coup by now, but no, nothing at all. I'm just an ordinary kid, one who sees how unambitious he is compared to his crazy peers. An ordinary kid with too many college shirts for his own good.

Day 3:

I'm already getting sick of French toast.

As soon as I saw Mr. T, I greeted him with "boulangerie," and immediately he knew what was up.

"How many days?" he asked while I went to take out the files I knew he was going to ask me to sort.

"Third day so far."

"Have you found your purpose yet?"

"I wish I knew."

"Sometimes purpose isn't about becoming a millionaire or saving the sea turtles. It can be something simpler too, like learning a new piano piece. If you're stuck in a loop like this, you might as well make the most of it. Try something new—the worst that happens is that you have to try again. Or, as Frank says, 'the future is only what we make today.'"

That's my expression. Frank stole it from me. Maybe someday I'd work up the courage to tell him that. But in the meantime, I'd better find some more interesting things to do.

Day 8:

The past few days I've been engaged in social experiments, seeing as my behavior has seemingly no consequence and that at this point I think if I willed myself hard enough, I could control everyone around me like marionettes on strings. Mr. T and I spent one of our periods, I believe day 5, gathering up all the copy paper boxes and barricading Frank and Juliet inside Mrs. Huang's room, since we knew she was out for a meeting. This forced an interesting diversion during lunch, where Frank spent a solid five minutes screaming about the necessity of finding the culprit. I confessed my complicity to Juliet during APUSH and she was understandably horrified—I'd go as far as to say despondent. Madeline found this the funniest thing ever though, and it made me wonder if over the past month of our time together at the same table, there were a rivalry between the two that had developed.

Second was finding some other way to torment Frank, as I had not yet worked up the courage to assassinate him. The thought had occurred to me Juliet was very impressionable, and I just so happened to run into her during brunch and share the intelligence I had supposedly overheard during Chinese class that Frank had a blinding crush on her, but was too shy to work up the courage to confess and would really appreciate a bit of help on her end. Her usual staid temperament was immediately shattered:

"He really said this to you? I don't think it's possible," she whispered, making sure nobody else was watching us.

"It's completely possible! Why else would he have stayed as a TA? To spend more time with you, of course!"

"I don't know how I can ever repay you," she said, giving me a warm hug that lasted perhaps a few seconds too long for my personal comfort, before then skipping away. The results of my attempt at playing matchmaker manifested themselves clearly at the club meeting, where I observed Frank made an active effort to stay out of arm's range of Juliet, and during APUSH, when Juliet sat down and immediately turned to me:

"You lied to me! Frank said he didn't have a crush on me, and that he never told you anything about us. I made a big fool of myself in front of him and Mrs. Huang, and for what? I'm never going to live this down," Juliet said.

"What happened?" Madeline interjected.

"I might have misheard something Frank said during class and taken it to mean that he had a huge crush on Juliet, and naturally I did what a good person would do and I passed that intelligence along."

"Frank cares about nobody but himself," Madeline laughed. "You really think he'd have a crush on you?"

"Frank totally cares about me! You wouldn't get it because you're a simpleton," Juliet sneered, and Madeline and I exchanged knowing glances. Class proceeded normally if a bit tensely, except afterward, Madeline pulled me aside:

"That was really funny, pranking Frank and Juliet like that. I guess you wouldn't know because you're new here, but everyone gives them and their friend group a wide berth these days—they're the epitome of that Machiavellian quote that it's better to be feared than loved. You're kind of cool, I respect that," she said, and walked away before I could process just how out-of-character this seemed. So I had made my first intrusion on the timeline that day, it seemed.

I repeated the same sequence the next day, except I had arranged with Mr. T for me to go with a bouquet of roses outside Mrs. Huang's door. Her room was right by ours, so it was easy to count just a minute or so after Frank and Juliet walked past our door and tail them. I walked in without knocking:

"...look, I don't know where you got this impression all of a sudden, but I promise I have no thing for you, we're just friends," Frank pleaded. Mrs. Huang saw me come in:

"Bill! How nice to see you! What are the flowers for?"

"Frank told me to bring a bouquet of flowers here fifth period, but I don't know what for," I lied, watching Frank's face turn beet-red.

"Aww, you brought me flowers?" Juliet cooed.

"I'll just leave them on the table here," I said, and I made my hasty escape. Mr. T, naturally, demanded an immediate war report:

"I know I should feel guilty for abusing my power like this, but it's as Phil Connors said: 'I am a god,'" I explained.

"So you think this is your purpose, being the ultimate trickster?"

"I have faith yet that this will manifest in something greater," I said.

Later that day, APUSH was interesting as usual. Juliet sat down and immediately turned to me:

"You lied to me! Frank said he didn't have a crush on me, and that he never told you anything about us. And then you come in and pull that cheap trick with the flowers? I made a big fool of myself in front of him and Mrs. Huang, and for what? I'm never going to live this down," Juliet scowled. A more sympathetic version of myself would have comforted her, except naturally I was responsible for her current state. She deserved it.

"Flowers? Spill the tea," Madeline said.

"I might have misheard something Frank said during class and taken it to mean that he had a huge crush on Juliet, and naturally I did what a good person would do and I passed that intelligence along. I even thought I'd do Frank a solid and bring a bouquet of roses."

"Frank cares about nobody but himself," Madeline laughed. "You really think he'd have a crush on you?"

"Frank totally cares about me! You wouldn't get it because you're a simpleton," Juliet sneered, and Madeline and I exchanged knowing glances. Juliet seemed angrier than last time, but she had her dignity to uphold and thus didn't show it. After class, as I assumed would happen, Madeline pulled me aside:

"You are a madman, having the balls to prank Frank and Juliet like that. You wouldn't know because you're new here, but ever since Frank started causing all that trouble with the club most people try to avoid him and his friends. If you were to only hang out with the club people you'd think Heller were just that little bubble, but I promise we're all here, just living our lives," Madeline said, perhaps warmer than before, I couldn't really tell.

"I appreciate the heads-up. I hope to meet some of these other people someday, if they really exist," I laughed.

"If you're lucky," she said, and walked off to her next class.

This leads us to today, where I had an epiphany that morning about what my purpose might be. As usual, I tracked Mr. T down before school.

"Boulangerie," I said, and he immediately perked up.

"How many days?"

"Day 8. Could you get me a bouquet of roses for the beginning of fifth period?"

"Do I want to know?"

"I've been doing this prank on Frank and Juliet. You'll love it. You always have."

Fast-forward a bit to after APUSH, where Madeline comes to me:

"You are a madman, having the balls to prank Frank and Juliet like that. You wouldn't know because you're new here, but ever since Frank started causing all that trouble with the club most people try to avoid him and his friends. If you were to only hang out with the club people you'd think Heller were just that little bubble, but I promise we're all here, just living our lives," Madeline said, perhaps warmer than before, I couldn't really tell.

"Well, want to help me change that?" I asked, entering uncharted territory.

"Want to get boba today?"

"You're free? I assumed you'd be busy with all your extracurricular stuff."

"I wouldn't have set you up for it if I weren't free," she said. "See you outside the robotics room after seventh?"

"Yep."

You see, my epiphany was realizing that my actions had a chain reaction effect, and that I was finally carrying information from day to day. There's no way I would have realized under any other circumstances that what Madeline had said that last time was potentially hinting at something, nor that there was more to her personality if not for her bemused reaction to my first prank. In the moment, I struggle to come up with these witty ripostes and seize the opportunity to sow chaos, but armed with a day's foresight, I can do anything.

Madeline and I walked downtown without too much interesting conversation, conversation I was already not looking forward to repeating if it turned out that were my destiny. I had some plausible lies about what private school was like taken whole cloth from my time at UCLA, and I supposed that didn't make them lies but rather half-truths. I had gone on so many social outings like this one, with my extra years of experience, that I personally didn't think anything of, but I wondered if in high school terms this carried some sort of subtext. I tested my luck as we were moving to leave:

"This was fun. I haven't done this much at all, since I still don't have a ton of friends here and I don't know anyone else—going out, I mean. Thanks for indulging me a little," I said.

"I really enjoyed your company too. I feel like we understand each other, whatever that means. How about ditching the club meeting tomorrow and eating lunch together?"

"Tomorrow... that sounds like a plan," I said. We exchanged our goodbyes and walked our separate directions, and immediately I wondered what that tomorrow would bring. At the very least I had a lot of different options for boba.

Day 9:

"Oh, by the way, Frank and I were discussing our favorite violin songs during class, too, in case you wanted the info. His favorite's 'Liebesleid,' if you wanted to know," I told Juliet while setting up the rest of my prank. The challenge was going to be keeping it fresh every time, so this would be a good twist.

"I love that one—it means 'love's sorrow.' I know it from an anime, Your Lie In April. Imagine if he were to have someone serenade me with that..." Juliet said dreamily, before giving me another hug. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Your happiness is enough for me," I said, and I went off to take care of other business. Mr. T had the flowers ready as promised, and I made my other request:

"If you have a few minutes, Juliet said that her favorite violin piece is 'Liebesleid,' if you want to come along and play. Sure, Mrs. Huang is going to tease you a little later, but if kids can sell celery juice to each other you can help play a prank."

"I love it. But after this, I'm going to start teaching you the violin. The papers can wait until later. Maybe you won't need it this loop, but I hope you'll come out of this experience with something productive learned."

"We have a deal," I said, and we walked over.

"...look, I don't know where you got this impression all of a sudden, but I promise I have no thing for you, we're just friends," Frank pleaded. Mrs. Huang saw us come in:

"Bill! Max! What a pleasant surprise! You've come just at the right time," she exclaimed, and I put the flowers on the table as Mr. T started playing, him clearly struggling to conceal a grin.

"You don't have to deny it, Frank. I admit I wasn't sure myself if I liked you or not, but seeing all of this? I'm a romantic at heart. I'm easily convinced. Anyone, if they did this to me out of the blue and they weren't, like, a hideous creep, would immediately become attractive in my eyes. I remember when I was a little girl..." Juliet continued, and Mr. T and I took the cue to get out while we still could.

"You know, Bill, if you're still in the market for social experiments, what she said gave me an idea," Mr. T said after we'd returned to his classroom.

"You want me to serenade her? But she's, like, a sociopath."

"And you're the one who's endlessly toying with your classmates for your own amusement. It's a perfect match!"

"We'll see."

I followed the same routine through APUSH and AP Lang (Frank, through all this, never spoke a word of this to me during English, as much as I knew exactly what he'd like to say if we were in private), and walked with Madeline again downtown. I had avoided the topic of piano before, knowing my own skills were inadequate compared to hers, but she forced my hand, as we were nearly done with our drinks and I was wondering exactly how I was going to take the road less-traveled:

"It sounds like you have some appreciation for music, getting Mr. T to serenade Juliet like that. I can guarantee if you did that to anyone at Heller, they'd fall in love with you instantly. You're charming enough to make it work—I never knew you were such a smooth talker."

"I've had some practice," I joked. "Have I ever heard you play before?"

This line of inquiry was clearly the right one: Madeline's resting smile, which was truly a new development since I'd known her before this day, turned even brighter:

"I should play for you sometime! I assume you play yourself?"

"Yeah, I do. I have a Bosendorfer grand, so I've been making the most of it these past few days. I drift naturally toward Joplin, but I've played Chopin, Liszt, Mozart, whatever."

"That's so fun. I love it."

I moved to leave, and we repeated our usual goodbye, Madeline suggesting we eat together tomorrow and my promising exactly that. I felt bad, making a promise I couldn't keep, but it wasn't a lie: I would see her tomorrow. Just in the exact same place, the exact same outfit, walking downtown, with me quieting any worries about what this would imply for my future self. I could take the chance, after all. There were no consequences to anything. As I practiced my piano that night, piano practice taking the place of studying for future exams or doing anything else productive, another thought occurred to me.

Day 10:

"It sounds like you have some appreciation for music, with getting Mr. T to serenade Juliet like that. I can guarantee if you did that to anyone at Heller, they'd fall in love with you instantly. You're charming enough to make it work—I never knew you were such a smooth talker."

"I've had some practice," I joked. "Have I ever heard you play before?"

"I should play for you sometime! I assume you play yourself?"

"Yeah, I do. I have a Bosendorfer grand, so I've been making the most of it these past few days. I drift naturally toward Joplin, but I've played Chopin, Liszt, Mozart, whatever. If you ever want to come by to practice, or give a private recital, or whatever, you'll be able to appreciate it far better than I ever could."

"Aren't those, like, really expensive? Like six digits expensive?"

"We bought the house from someone who studied under Horowitz."

"You are full of surprises, Bill," Madeline said, briefly putting her hand on my shoulder. "Let's go."

"Today?"

"What are you waiting for? Tomorrow I'm busy, so if you want to seize your chance, now's the time."

"Now's the time for what?" I asked as we started walking, knowing where this conversation would go.

"A girl's just asked to come over to your place—maybe this happens to you all the time, but for me I never do this."

"Fair enough."

Note to self: avoid that line of inquiry tomorrow. Too awkward.

If I had known I was to be inviting Madeline over, I'd have cleaned up just a bit more, but with one person living in the house everything was spotless. Perhaps too spotless.

"Wow, you really cleaned up the place! It looks like one of those homes realtors stage for walkthroughs. You even have a bowl of plastic fruit. How quaint," Madeline said, taking her shoes off.

"I try to keep clean."

"I bet your parents make you clean a lot. Are they gone? I didn't see any cars parked out front."

"They're traveling. Business trip. To, uh, Sweden."

"Sweden?"

Note to self: pick a different country tomorrow.

"Yeah. Want something more to drink—water, green tea iced latte, suanmeitang, anything? As long as it stays a few feet from the piano. I have snacks, too."

"You just have all these things ready for visitors?"

"Well, I didn't know you were coming, or else I'd have cleaned up the place more. An orderly house reflects an orderly mind, I always say. Anything you want as a snack?"

"If I could have anything at all..." Madeline mused. "I'm always partial to deviled eggs. But not just any deviled eggs—they have to be gourmet. I had some at a fancy dinner once as an appetizer and loved them."

"Gourmet deviled eggs," I said, writing a note on the fridge for myself.

"Unless you magically whip some out of your fridge, I think I'll be fine for now. So, what do you want me to play?"

"Whatever's fine. I'm always partial to Chopin though."

"You know his 'Heroic Polonaise?'"

"I used to be able to play it pretty well, but I've forgotten it," I said, walking over to badly play the opening bars from memory.

"That's a hard one to play well. Here, let me show you." She began to play it, clearly something she'd done many times, and at once another aspect of my purpose became clear. After she finished and I applauded politely, I remarked:

"There's an old Perry Como song that rips off the melody. It's a nice one, 'Till The End Of Time.' It always makes me feel sentimental. It was over winter break once I was learning that polonaise and I heard that song for the first time. I don't know, I always get sentimental like that."

"OK, your turn," Madeline said with a grin. I whipped out a nice arrangement of the 18th variation from Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, something that felt very timely for my own Groundhog Day moment; it was very fortunate I'd had a few extra practice hours.

"That wasn't bad!" she said. "If I had a piano like this, you could lock me in a room with it for eternity and I'd never run out of things to do."

"That's how I feel every day. My parents are gone for travel a lot, so it's just me holding down the fort. And since I don't get out much, it really is just me and the piano. Nobody else."'

"Anyway, what else do you want me to play?"

We continued for a few hours, alternating until it became clear to me Madeline was having the time of her life playing without my interruption, until Madeline checked the time.

"I'd better get home for dinner now. This was so fun, though, and I hope we can do this again, if you ever want another private recital," she said, and moved to pick up her belongings. I walked her to the door, not sure if I was supposed to do anything else, and waved as she walked off. Tomorrow, I was certain I'd end up doing the same anyway. I honestly had no real attraction to her—I couldn't shake off the image she projected on every other occasion, at least quite yet, of a soulless Silicon Valley drone. But the novelty of it all was precious in its own way, and if there were some chance this would be my "purpose" and thus ticket out of the time loop, why not explore it?

Day 11:

An interesting discovery has been made today. I opened the fridge to get my glass of milk, as usual, and saw inside there was a large Tupperware container of deviled eggs, served with some jam I could identify by taste as being bacon and jalapeño. So my captors were in some way responsible for this time loop! And it proved furthermore, as with my diary, that this was not a completely closed loop. Some details could move themselves from day to day.

"It sounds like you have some appreciation for music, with getting Mr. T to serenade Juliet like that. I can guarantee if you did that to anyone at Heller, they'd fall in love with you instantly. You're charming enough to make it work—I never knew you were such a smooth talker," Madeline said, in a slightly flirtier tone than I had remembered—I wasn't trying to repeat my conversations word for word, but I could imagine that by this iteration I'd gotten pretty good at small talk that agreed with her sensibilities.

"I've had some practice," I joked. "Have I ever heard you play before?"

"I should play for you sometime! I assume you play yourself?"

"Yeah, I do. I have a Bosendorfer grand, so I've been making the most of it these past few days. I drift naturally toward Joplin, but I've played Chopin, Liszt, Mozart, whatever. If you ever want to come by to practice, or give a private recital, or whatever, you'll be able to appreciate it far better than I ever could."

"Aren't those, like, really expensive? Like six digits expensive?"

"We stole it. Loaded it into a truck under the cover of night."

"You are full of surprises, Bill," Madeline said, briefly putting her hand on my shoulder. "Let's go."

"I'll lead the way."

I didn't think to make the house dirtier in advance to make it more natural, but in a way, its current pristine state was natural too. I had bigger priorities.

"Wow, you really cleaned up the place! It looks like one of those homes realtors stage for walkthroughs. You even have a bowl of plastic fruit. How quaint," Madeline said, taking her shoes off.

"I try to keep clean."

"I bet your parents make you clean a lot. Are they gone? I didn't see any cars parked out front."

"They're traveling. Business trip."

"Must be lonely being all by yourself—do they travel a lot?"

"They do. I get used to it, though. Being alone. I don't like it, but I'm used to it."

"I have so many extracurriculars that I don't get to see my friends too often. But sometimes a good opportunity just makes itself available, and it's like you read my mind today. There's beauty in the small gestures, you know."

"Want a snack or something more to drink?" I asked, a certain small gesture of my own already in mind.

"I could use a bite to eat before we play. What do you have?"

"Are deviled eggs good enough for you? They're gourmet. Really good." Madeline hurried over to open the fridge herself.

"You're magical! How did you know I liked deviled eggs? How did you know any of this? It's like you know exactly what I want, before I even say it."

"Oh, I have lots of food in here—it's just a coincidence. Fate, some might say," I said glibly—this "smooth talker" thing was really coming naturally to me with a bit of practice, plus the complete lack of fear of moral comeuppance.

We ate and chatted a bit more, Madeline revealing little else interesting about herself but that I was giving a remarkably good first impression for someone whom she'd never have thought to pay any serious attention to if not for the bravado of my prank. She clearly enjoyed my company, but I couldn't help but wonder it was more because I knew exactly what she wanted and not because of my authentic self—this was a great amusement, for certain, but there would be a time when this ran dry. Until then, was there a limit on how much I could do to defrost her temperament?

"Suppose we were to do this again. What would make this even more pleasant of an experience for you?" I asked. "Well, that's a bad way of phrasing it. What I mean is—"

"This is perfect. Exactly what I needed," she interrupted, and we moved to the piano playing our usual repertoire. My opening bars of the polonaise were a fair bit better than they were last time, leading her to express surprise this was what I considered "bad," and I thought it would be funny to someday whip out the entire piece for her.

"I'd better get home for dinner now. This was so fun, though, and I hope we can do this again, if you ever want another private recital. You're a perfect host—it's like you know me better than I know myself," she said after a few hours, later than before, and went to pick up her belongings. I walked her to the door, and just as she was about to walk off, I had one last epiphany:

"Want me to walk you to the bus stop and wait with you?" I asked, hoping this was gentlemanly and not creepy. If it were the latter, I'd simply not say it next time, but thankfully this gesture was not too much:

"That would be lovely," Madeline said, and we started making the trek back downhill. We walked close, hands drifting at our sides, not talking much except to comment on the slowly dimming sky. It was a walk I'd done tens of times over the years, both when at home and in this parallel universe, but this was the first time I had made it with another—most especially in this pseudo-romantic sense. Wasn't that funny, still, how it only took a few days to engineer such a contrivance. I wonder if I could do this with everyone at Heller.

"I'd invite you to come eat dinner with my family, but they don't approve of these sorts of things—of these distractions. I certainly couldn't tell them I met this cute boy who charmed me into coming to his house, fed me food I liked, and was enough of a gentleman to walk me to the bus stop," Madeline said as the bus pulled up. I blushed, and Madeline noticed:

"Did I say that out loud? Silly me. If you were a real gentleman, you'd have taken my hand as we walked," she said with a smile, and boarded the bus. It was faint through the window, but as the bus drove off, I think I saw her blow me a kiss.

I stood there for a minute or two afterward, long after the Samtrans bus passed out of view, staring across the street. People walked by of all sorts, families with children and old men, all going about their usual business. And the next day, there they'd be again, without a care in the world. If I spent a few days, I could learn all their secrets, toy with their lives as much as I had toyed with Madeline. What had I done? This was completely unlike her. All I thought I was doing at first was getting myself boba. I was a terrible person for tricking her into this. But on the other hand, it wasn't like she was going to face any consequences for this. I would be the only one who carried this burden from day to day, and as long as I did something else sometime, we wouldn't end on this loop.

Yeah, screw consequences. Let's give this one more go.

Day 12:

"I'd better get home for dinner now. This was so fun, though, and I hope we can do this again, if you ever want another private recital. You're a perfect host—it's like you know what I want before I say it," she said after a few hours, later than before, and went to pick up her belongings. I walked her to the door, and just as she was about to walk off, I repeated the past:

"Want me to walk you to the bus stop and wait with you?" I asked, knowing this gesture was exactly what she wanted.

"That would be lovely," Madeline said, and we started making the trek back downhill. It was a walk I'd obviously done once before, like this, and as much as I appreciated the tranquility of the moment, there was one thing I'd yet to do. As we turned onto the road, our hands drifted close, and I reached out to take hers. Before I had to journey past the point of no return and actually grasp hers, she grasped mine, and we walked hand-in-hand to the bus stop. We walked slower than I typically took the journey, and I don't recall how long it took to get there; she was quiet, as usual, and I imagine she was savoring the moment just like I was. I certainly hadn't done this before, and she didn't strike me as the sort who did either—or really, the sort of person someone would want to spend this much time with.

Our slower walk meant we arrived just as the bus was leaving, and so we sat down on a bench there, still limply holding hands and watching the people go by. I recognized some of the people that walked across from us—the man in the gray beret and cane, shuffling by; the girl in the red dress running after her parents—but the scene felt very different. It was that here Madeline was, also sitting in awe of the moment—she definitely wasn't a chatterbox like Juliet—and undoubtedly thinking about if she would tell her parents about this or what it meant for the tomorrow I had so casually promised her. She was undoubtedly thinking of what an odd turn of events it took for her to end up here, perhaps an odder turn of events than I had taken: she took a chance on me, probably expecting a quick chat and nothing more, and ended up meeting someone she probably now thinks is Mr. Right.

Watching the sullen night scene, I was reminded of The Great Gatsby, if only because a burgeoning sense of instinct about the universe Heller occupied told me that Frank was a bit of a Gatsby figure, with Juliet bearing a remarkable resemblance to Daisy. That made me Nick, and Madeline Jordan. So on the positive side, we weren't to see each other in the future for long. Being side characters, we could easily disperse into mist. Before I could decide to remark on this to Madeline, also thinking that our bout of silence had gone on too long, the bus pulled up.

"I hope I'm not too forward, but I've never felt this way before. With you, today," Madeline said, and leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek before walking off to the bus. So that was one social experiment complete, and after she went out of sight, I began the desultory walk home. The opening bars of that Perry Como song were stuck in my head, still to the rhythm of that polonaise; this, or something like it, would truly go until the "end of time."

Day 13:

Darn, still another day. I was hoping for a nice credits pan-out, of the bus leaving, with Perry Como's voice. It would have been thematic. Since clearly that wasn't it, it was back to the drawing board, and maybe I'd take Mr. T's suggestion.

"Oh, by the way, Frank and I were discussing our favorite violin songs during class, too, in case you wanted the info. His favorite's 'Liebesleid,' if you wanted to know," I told Juliet while setting up the rest of my prank. This time, the twist was going in another direction: I wanted to gather info.

"I love that one—it means 'love's sorrow.' I know it from an anime, Your Lie In April. Imagine if he were to have someone serenade me with that..." Juliet said dreamily, before giving me another hug. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"I should play the piano version for you sometime if you like it so much."

"You know it? Maybe the club can have a piano recital sometime and you can play it for us. And for Frank, too."

"That would be an interesting idea."

Back to the drawing board.

Day 18:

"During class earlier, Frank said your favorite violin piece was 'Liebesleid'—I didn't know you liked that one too," I observed with feigned, practiced nonchalance.

"I love that piece! How did Frank know that?"

"I don't know, he just said that he despised the piece. But I know it from Your Lie In April, if you've seen that."

"He hates the piece? It's so romantic though. If someone were to ever serenade me with that, I'd swoon."

"I can play the piano version."

"Wait, really? Can you play it for me sometime?" Juliet asked with unprecedented eagerness. I'd tried a few different methods of getting here, but I didn't realize it would require putting Frank down—or rather, presenting a way in which he was fallible—to get Juliet to think about anything else.

"I have a Bosendorfer grand piano—really fancy and expensive—and I never get the chance to play for anyone else. So if you'd ever want to come by, I can treat you a bit."

"After cheer practice I can come by. Here's my number—text me your address. Gosh, I'm so excited!" Juliet said, before skipping away. Well then. I did what I was told, and prayed fervently that Frank and his goons wouldn't beat me up for trying to interact privately with one of their own. No such pain came, and while I was frantically practicing the piece once more, I got a text from Juliet saying she was on her way. A few minutes later, my doorbell rang, and there she was, slightly sweaty from cheer practice but still in good spirits.

"Thanks again for coming! It's so rare I have guests over," I said. "Please, anything you want to drink—water, green tea iced latte, suanmeitang, whatever I have."

"I love green tea!" Juliet said, and I poured each of us a glass.

"Want some snacks? I have a bunch of deviled eggs if you like those."

"Eww, no," Juliet said, grimacing.

Note to self: put another sticky note on the fridge saying no to deviled eggs.

"Anyway, you wanted to hear 'Liebesleid'?" I asked.

"Ooh, yay!"

I went to the piano and started playing, with her staring me down the entire time, occasionally stopping to take dainty sips of her drink. When I finished, she applauded politely.

"You play even better than Frank!" she said, as if this were the utmost compliment.

"I sure hope so—I've been practicing this piece a lot. Since you've come all this way, anything else you want to hear or do?"

"I have a lot of homework I need to catch up on—I've been so busy lately with the club and everything. Mind if I stay here for a bit?"

Under any other circumstances, I would have said no to Juliet inviting herself over as a houseguest, but it wasn't as if I was being a shining model of good conduct over the last few weeks either. It really has been weeks now, hasn't it? She took out her laptop, I took out mine, and we sat on the couch together while she did work and I pretended to do work while actually playing Minecraft. Occasionally she'd ask me to help translate a word or double-check her math, but otherwise we were quiet; the silence bothered me, so I turned on some smooth jazz, which she didn't seem to mind. If I concentrated hard enough, it was like she wasn't there.

When it began to grow dark, I suggested to Juliet she'd better head home—if I hadn't, I imagined she was in such a stupor she'd have stayed for dinner, and that I didn't feel like doing. I felt more of a duty to extricate myself from the situation with her because it was uncharted territory: I hadn't had the luxury of retracing my steps.

"Gosh, it's growing late—I'm so sorry for having stayed so long."

"It's no problem at all. Want me to walk you to the bus stop?"

"You are such a gentleman! I'd love that," Juliet said eagerly, and went to the door. I followed her out, and together we went downtown, Juliet taking the lead with her insistence on maintaining a 15-minute mile walking pace. All the way down, she badgered me with stories about how Frank was always as gentlemanly as I was, opening doors for her and sending her and her friends cookie recipes, while I politely nodded. It killed the mood, really. Not like there was much of a mood anyway, but it wasn't even a baseline level of pleasant. It was eerie. A simulacrum of normal human interaction.

I waved goodbye to Juliet as she left on the bus, and she returned the same to me, but I no longer had cause to linger and watch the people go by. It was cold and dark—my college shirt was not enough to keep myself insulated. Nobody who I passed on the way back recognized me as the same interloper who'd been there before with another girl, in a different time, wearing a different shirt. I was just another Heller student.

This really is growing tiresome.

Day 21:

The drudgery continues. I've gone back to my usual routine, telling Mr. T that I'm stuck in the loop just so I have some reasonable company, then going about the rest of my business. Learning the violin is hard, but Mr. T is a good teacher and I'd like to think I'm picking it up quickly. I don't plan on continuing this forever, but if I don't have a choice in the matter, I may as well get something useful out of the experience.

It's also really awkward seeing Madeline around school knowing what I do now. Knowing that there's a magic formula I can follow to end up with us, stony-faced, walking hand-in-hand through the late summer breeze makes the present boring. I've considered repeating that sequence again sometime just to mix things up a little. I'm definitely not inviting Juliet over, though. One time I mentioned deviled eggs randomly to see what would happen and Madeline perked up, and I wondered if there were some alternative path toward the same outcome as before.

Day 25:

Close to a month of this and I'm nowhere nearer finding my purpose—or any path out of this purgatory. Phil Connors figured out pretty early on how to get into bed with Rita, only to discover that alone wasn't enough to make his torment stop. It took him going out into the world and doing good deeds for the cycle to break. It broke because he'd lost all hope that his actions would have a tangible return; he was doing them to be good, not for escape from the karmic cycle. I've begun looking around Heller for good deeds to do, which is a remarkably hard thing to do given how much of an asshole everyone is. Juliet was really happy when I held the door open for her, and it's a bad sign that's the most influential action I've done recently. I can't go around holding doors open for people and doing nothing else.

Day 27:

Apparently Phil spent ten thousand days stuck in his cycle. I'm not getting close to that, but my diary is starting to fill up. I wonder what happens when it's done—will another appear on my desk? Will my room eventually be so full of diaries I can't move, and I'm stuck endlessly suffocating?

I estimate around day 50 or so I'll run out of room. Until then, my torment continues.

Day 47:

This is my penultimate day. I think I can squeeze out today's diary entry, then tomorrow, and with any luck I'll be able to move on.

"You know, some of my time loops have lasted years," Mr. T observed while watching me listlessly go through the usual motions of filing papers. I tended to save my energy for the violin.

"How does that help me at all in this predicament?"

"From what you've told me, you've gone through the initial cycle of experimentation—charming your way into many of your female classmates' hearts, breaking into Mr. Simon's car and driving it into the tennis courts, getting kids to beat up Frank for selling them celery juice. Now reality is setting in, that there's no easy solution to your predicament. You're trying to find release through the ordinary. You'll repeat this cycle for a while, each time thinking you've found a solution, then eventually it all stops. You find closure somewhere, whichever little boondoggle is keeping you tethered to the moment. Just be patient with it. You have a while yet."

"I won't have this conversation again with you, at least not for a while," I said.

"It's not like I can do anything about it."

I'm pretty settled on this diary hypothesis. Let's see what happens tomorrow. One grand old shindig for old time's sake.

Day 48:

"You're magical! How did you know I liked deviled eggs? How did you know any of this? It's like you know exactly what I want, before I even say it."

"I didn't know. I simply said the first thing that came to mind—I'm a big fan of deviled eggs and knew I had some left. We truly are on the same wavelength."

"It's crazy. It's so rare I do this sort of thing that I forget how nice it is to just spend some time one-on-one with someone, eating good food, chatting, enjoying pleasant company."

"I agree completely. You know, I used to, with a friend, watch movies together every few weeks. We'd get on a video call and every time we'd take turns picking something. Nothing special to it, just a good movie and good company."

"I haven't seen any movies in so long! What's your favorite?"

"I love Casablanca, but that's a bit too old-timey for my present mood. Sometimes other movies strike as best for the moment."

"What movie are you thinking of right now?" Madeline asked, and immediately I knew this uncharted territory was going in a more promising direction than the mere emotional gratification I had expected.

"There's this great film called Groundhog Day about a guy who's stuck repeating the same day over and over again, and in the process learns to appreciate life more fully and find love. I've watched it many, many times."

"Care to see it once more?"

"I thought you wanted to play the piano?"

"Oh, I love playing—especially on such a nice piano as yours—but I do that all the time. Seeing a movie with a cute guy, now that's something I don't do."

"I'm flattered—I hope you aren't this charming with everyone you meet."

"I swear on my honor I've never asked someone out before or even strongly hinted at it. This is the first time. Something just feels different."

"Then let's watch a movie," I declared, and I put it on the TV. I didn't make a move to sit especially near Madeline or anything, knowing that if my hypothesis were right, I wouldn't get a chance to compensate for any of my misdeeds should I do anything untoward—and the promise of it all reverting back to normal a few hours later was not good enough. It was a miracle I hadn't made a fool of myself on the romantic front—even when engineering ways to go out with my peers whom I'd not interacted with as substantially. Those went well, but were more ordinary than this; it was only with her that I'd moved past just getting boba. Was I starting to develop interest in her? Maybe to a small degree, to that this was preferable than living like a hermit in my own time loop. In any case, I wasn't beholden to anything past the present: at least until I returned to my own world, there were no true consequences for my actions.

This decision was made for me, anyway, since a minute or two later Madeline nudged herself closer to me to cuddle—if I weren't presumably in a time loop, I'd perhaps have flinched a little, but if there was one thing I was learning to embrace through these cycles, it was the moment. To me, it had been a month since we'd first met and this thing had started between us, but obviously for her it had been just a few hours, and I imagine it was only credit to the bizarre sequence of perfect events that she had chosen to take such a big risk. I'd seen Groundhog Day numerous times before, way too many in fact, but never had I seen it with someone at my side.

"That was a great movie," Madeline said, pulling herself up and moving to a more normal sitting position. "It reminds me of how I feel sometimes, stuck in the cycle of high school. Every day, more tests, more assignments, more lectures, no change. You know, it reminds me of us: you're just like Phil, and I'm like Rita. You've charmed someone who would otherwise think nothing of you into believing you're the perfect guy. Except this time, you're not stuck in a loop to try and artificially induce these conditions again: tomorrow we'll see each other, get lunch, and life will go on."

I could have told her the truth just then, that I knew she liked deviled eggs or that my prank on Frank and Juliet would seize her with a spontaneous desire to get to know me better. But what would the point be? It would only remind me of how exploitative this all felt, and she'd be terrified of me. So I refrained.

"You know, you're exactly right. I can't imagine how dreadful being stuck in a loop like that would be. Anyway, shall I be a gentleman and walk you to the bus?"

"That would be lovely," Madeline said, and we started making the trek back downhill. This was a walk I'd made too many times by now with too many different people. I felt nothing but a slight warmth as we held hands and walked down. A wadded-up bit of paper blew in the breeze like a tumbleweed. I had never noticed it before, but perhaps it was always there. Those small details were always there, the details I had observed to craft this unique vision of reality. I simply had never thought to notice them.

This time, we didn't have to wait long for the bus, and as we could see it at the traffic light, Madeline turned to me once more:

"I'd invite you to come eat dinner with my family, but they don't approve of these sorts of things—of these distractions. I certainly couldn't tell them I met this cute boy who charmed me into coming to his house, fed me food I liked, and was enough of a gentleman to walk me to the bus stop," she said, her voice tinged with guilt.

"Not even someone who can play the piano, who took calculus in ninth grade, who speaks Chinese, and who has such good taste in movies?"

"Since when could you speak Chinese?"

"Of course I can—I thought Juliet told you, the first or second time we'd met in APUSH."

"I remember now—slipped my mind completely. Here's my number—I want to butter them up today, but I'll text you if you can come tomorrow. I think they'd be charmed," Madeline said, giving me a peck on the cheek as she boarded the bus.

Tomorrow was a nice idea, I thought, as I walked back to my house in the cooling twilight. I hoped it would come, and quickly at that. I found myself humming that Perry Como song again as I walked home, and as I prepared my own dinner, I watched my phone for a text from Madeline. I'd never felt this sense of anticipation for tomorrow before, aside from it being an escape from my misery. Eventually, the good word came: "They can't wait to meet you," she said, and I went to bed feeling like I had finally found my purpose.

Day 49:

Bosnia-Herzegovina.

Discussion Questions:

Why a Groundhog Day homage? How does this fit the plot and themes we've seen so far?

Out of all people, why does Bill get involved with Madeline (the chapter title might be a hint)? What do they have in common, and what's the narrative significance in their interesting and sudden courtship?

What might Bill's purpose be, and how is his search for meaning similar to other characters' searches?