Again, But Better

What the hell?
My hands curl up into fists against my jeans. I sprint to catch up to him. I’m out of breath when
I grab his arm.
“Pilot!” I gasp-yell.
He turns to me with a flat expression. “Why are you out of breath?”
“I—” I suck in more air. “I fell behind, so are we going to get the flat together and play Taboo
tonight? That’s what we did last time we … did this,” I say in my normal tone of voice.
“I’m not feeling up to it,” he responds. There’s attitude lurking behind those words.
“What is wrong right now?” I demand.
“Really?” he says to the sidewalk.
“I mean, yeah, apparently we’ve been thrown back in time, and yes, that’s completely mind-
boggling, and in a way, terrifying, and I understand being in shock. I understand being scared and
uncomfortable, but what the hell is this drastic change in tone? Why are you acting like you’re
angry at me?”
He turns away, walking toward the Karlston again.
“Pilot!” I yell.
He pivots. “I am mad at you, Shane!” The words blow out of him, and I stumble back a few
steps in surprise.
He rolls his head in an irritated little circle. “We barely know each other anymore. I didn’t ask
for this.” He takes a breath. “
You did.
You drop in unannounced after six years without so much as
a conversation. You just showed up at my office! 
You
wanted to go for coffee. 
You
wanted to
dredge up the past. 
You
needed closure. I didn’t have a say in any of this.” He throws his hands up.

---

I strain not to blink. We are at the foot of the Karlston steps now. He turns away. I find the
control to spit out one more sentence before tears compromise my voice. “How can you blame this
on me?”
He doesn’t look back. He takes the steps two at a time and disappears inside the building. I
look up at the sky for a moment before spinning away from the Karlston. I’m not going back there
without groceries.
Halfway down the block toward Tesco, I realize I don’t have any money. I pivot again and
hurry back to the Karlston.
“Student ID, please,” requests the security guard without looking up from his computer. Crap.
“I’m so sorry, I left it downstairs in my purse. I forgot my whole purse. Can I go grab it?” He
makes eye contact. Immediately his expression softens; he can tell I’m crying.
“Go ahead, that’s fine.” He hastily waves me forward like I’d proposed a conversation about
my period.
I run into the kitchen. It’s empty. Thank the time-travel lord who brought me here. Sure
enough, my old cross-body is lying on the floor, under the table. I pick it up, sling it across my
chest, and tromp back out into the night for groceries.
When I return an hour later, I find Sahra on her computer in our room. I float the idea of heading to
the kitchen to chill, and she’s up for it. As she gathers herself, I dash across the hall and knock on
the boys’ door. Atticus pulls it open, grinning.
I smile back. “Hey! Um, so we’re gonna go hang out in the kitchen and play some games, do
some flat bonding. Want to join us?”
“Of course!” Atticus exclaims. He turns to Pilot. I catch a glimpse of him on the bed with his
guitar. “Pilot, did you hear?” Atticus adds.
“Yeah, man, go ahead,” he says without looking up.
“Okay.” Atticus looks at me expectantly. I linger awkwardly, wanting to talk to Pilot alone.
Across the way, Sahra emerges from our room.
“Go ahead to the kitchen. I’m going to get my iPod. I’ll be there in a minute!” I tell them both.
They head off. I catch Pilot’s door before it closes and pull myself into the frame.
“Are you going to come?” I prompt.
He still doesn’t lift his head. “I don’t think so.”
“But this was our flat bonding night.”
“No, thanks, Shane. I think you should go.”
“I just don’t feel right about—”
“Please leave.” There’s force behind the words, and it hits me right in the gut. I halt
midsentence and take a step back into the hall.
“Fine.” I grab the knob and slam the door in place. I take a deep breath, run into my room, grab
my iPod, and head for the kitchen.

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