04:10

I decided to never leave my bed at all. Thirteen minutes I laid there static, like a patient in a catatonic state. I'd thought of all the wildest ideas that could probably – just probably – make a glitch in the mess, just enough for me to break the time loop. My ideas include stripping down naked in front of Nova, dying my hair red, wearing a kangaroo onesie and then hang from the branches of the trees, tying myself in my bed . . . these ridiculous ideas are enough evidence of just how badly desperate I was to go through the night without her getting her skull crushed or being shot by a gun. Maybe oddly weird things might break this time loop, and even if Nova would spend the rest of high school weirded out by me, I'd prefer that than her being dead.

At 11:43, I heard Nova knock on my window, as I knew she would – I went through it enough times to know. I stayed still.

"Hello?" Nova whispers. Hearing her voice felt comforting. It was nice to hear that after watching her die in my arms. I felt a squeeze in my heart when I remembered her eyes, so dead and blank in the night. "Hello, Miss Cheerleader?"

I didn't move. As much as I wanted to see Nova's face after seeing her dead in my previous loop, I didn't move and bit my lower lip. I wondered what would happen if I never interacted with her at all.

"Oh, shit," she said. "My palms are sweaty now . . ."

I resisted the temptation to move. I had to test it out. What would happen if we never saw each other?

"Okay, I'll just . . ." I heard a few shuffles, grunts. "I'll let go and . . . ah, fuck!"

I sprang upright, ran to my window, and peeked. If she had died and I wouldn't loop back, I would literally end everything.

But then after sliding up my window and peeking outside, I heaved a sigh of relief because I saw that she wasn't dead. Rubbing her elbow and grunting in pain, sure, but she was alive, and she seemed fine.

She wasn't dead. Perhaps it worked?

"Hello?" I heard mom speak, making my ears perk in sudden interest – Mom interacting with Nova in a loop? Now that's new. "What are you . . . hey! Excuse me?"

"Uh, hi!" said Nova. She was still holding her elbow. It really seemed that she hurt and guilt bit my heart. "I was just trying to . . . uh . . ."

"What?"

"I was trying to climb your daughter's window," she said with finality, like a forced confession. "She's my, uh . . . friend."

A friend, huh. I didn't know Nova could consider me that. I thought we were acquaintances at best.

"Well, why didn't you just knock?" Mom said with a light chuckle so familiar and comfortable I almost teared up. Hearing my mother – my best best friend in the world – was just what I needed. "I could let her off the curfew if she's with a friend!"

Suddenly I was angry because she has never told me anything like that! I got up from my window, got dressed, and went downstairs. I saw her sitting with Nova on the couch, laughing and talking to each other as though they were good friends.

This time I felt really, really relieved, because with a new character in our loop, I had a good feeling that everything would go well that night. Many things could be done if Mom was in the picture, like for instance, she could be the one to drive us to Nova's gig, or she could convince her to not go at all and instead of Nova getting hit by a car the three of us could spend the night baking cookies and nobody would die . . . or something like that.

"Nova! What a . . . surprise!" I said. It was difficult to lie at that point. "What are you doing here?"

"Asking your mom out on a date," Nova said, wiggling her eyebrows.

My eye twitched. "Right."

"Oh, you!" Mom said and playfully slapped Nova's shoulder. "Well, this young lady here was about to climb your window. That is just so quirky, isn't it? I was wild like that when I was your age."

"I heard she took rock climbing classes."

"You were awake?" Nova inquired, ignoring my joke. She laughed, but it felt kind of stiff. "There I was thinking you were already sleeping – why didn't you—"

"I-I was wearing earphones," I lied. "I probably didn't hear."

A few seconds of silence hung.

"Anyway, I shouldn't stay long," Nova said, standing up. Sometimes, I really forgot how tall she was. Even our ceiling could almost touch her hair. "My gig would start by 12 AM, see. I'd be really late if Miss Cheerleader here won't give me a ride right now." She motioned to me.

"I think I can do the driving for the both of you!" Mom said, standing up and giving me a look. "Would that be okay, hon?"

I couldn't believe it. That time was really different. If I had my mother involved in the loop, there was a chance that Nova wouldn't die. I knew it sounded ridiculous but perhaps the reason why Nova kept dying and dying and dying was because of me. Perhaps I was the curse – the one leading Nova to her death.

If I stayed home . . . "Do I really need to come?" I asked. "It's late."

Mom looked confused. "But . . . isn't Nova your fav—"

"Mom, I am really ti—"

"I-I don't think we have to force Miss Cheerleader," said Nova, who wasn't looking at me.

"No! I wouldn't be leaving without you, Cora. I know just how much you love this band! So, we are going – together. All right?"

"Okay," I said, sighing. And then when Mom was about to stand up, I stopped her. "Wait, promise me you'll remember two things: one, drive very slowly and be very wary of trucks, specifically white ones, and two, ignore old men walking across the street."

Mom laughed as if I'd just joked. "My paranoid baby!"

Nova and I then went inside the car. I sat on the passenger's seat as she sat at the backseat, on her phone again, like she always was every time we rode the car. Probably texting her band mates, guess what? I managed to grab a ride from a cheerleader's mom! and they'd respond how cool and amazing that was, and they would ask Nova if my mom was hot, and she'd tell them to grow up like men.

"Hey," I said as soon as she shut off her phone. "You nervous?"

It was only then that I'd realized I have asked her that before. On the first loop.

Then she said, "Well, always am." I knew why – because unfortunately, the nerves would always be there. I looked at her and she said this while looking out the window. "The nerves would always be there, unfortunately."

But she did not continue any further.

On our first loop she was more open and was more interested in talking to me. She didn't even ask about Kent that night, and for some strange reason I felt a feeling of panic and – I don't know, like there was a swamp in my throat – or like gross mud clogged in it – and it was sticky and tight and uncomfortable. I didn't know what was wrong.

"Hey, Flair," she said, and I was surprised because she called me by my last name. "Say, do you . . . hate me?"

Of all the things I wanted her to ask me, it certainly was not that one. "What?"

"You seemed – I don't know – we've always been in the same radar, you know? Same neighborhood, same school, and you even like our band. So why aren't we friends?" I was holding my breath as I watched her gather her thoughts. She didn't look angry. She had a small smile on, trying to make the situation light despite the unexpected confrontation. "I was thinking I'd be closer to you tonight if I hung out with you or whatever, but you – you ignored me in your window. And you lied to me about it. Is it because, like, you're a popular girl and I'm just some idiot playing bass in a – quoting Kent, stupid band?"

"No, of course not!" I said. "I just . . ."

"You just always seemed to ignore me," she said, and her voice sounded genuinely sad that it tightened my chest. "But. . . it's fine. Like, you don't owe me friendship. I was just, I don't know, thinking maybe it's something I did."

"No . . . not at all, Nova. It's not that, really," I said again. I didn't know what to say. Did she always feel that way? Sure I leave bathrooms when I see her there, or I purposely don't go to meet and greets of their band, or I switched with some guy in our Math class so I wouldn't be paired with her, but that was just because I was scared, and because I couldn't keep myself together when she was near me. I didn't know I gave off the impression that I hated her. Oh, god. I was an idiot! "I—"

"Hey, girls!" Mom said, entering the car. "Ready to go?"

"Thanks again, Mrs. Flair."

I was quiet the whole ride, furiously blinking back tears. I was tired mentally – I'd been spending the night trying to keep Nova from dying, only to discover she'd been feeling like I had been hating her all this time. Did she feel that way in the locker with Kent? Thinking about that time felt so far away, as though it happened a year ago.

It's my entire fault. Nova came to hang out with me because she thought it was the only way to get me to like her when I never hated her at all. It was my fault. All those deaths . . .

I didn't even feel surprised when the same truck had swerved into our lane and hit our car. Everything was the same. The shattering glasses, the crunching metals, the flashes of lights, and I felt even more panic because Mom was there with me – involved with the mess I began – and I closed my eyes tight, tears gushing out – wishing I'd wake up back in my bed again. Nova died, Mom got hurt, and the shock bolting through my skull and my bones and the hurting coursing through my muscles didn't feel any less painful.

I took one last glimpse at Nova because at that moment I knew that she was already dead.

♫