He’s not letting up. In fact, he’s only getting angrier. Is it possible this is really Jay? I mean, maybe Iamtalking to a ghost. But there are two problems with this theory. One, ghosts aren’t real, and two, if he’s a ghost, wouldn’t he know that he’s dead?
I freeze. An idea comes to me. It’s as implausible as the ghost theory, but honestly, this might be the only logical solution, even if it’s not logical at all.
Aleeza:Okay, confirm some things for me. You’re Jay Hoque, right? Second year student, solo resident of room 225 in East House, Toronto City University, correct?
Jay:Yes.
Aleeza:And you are right now IN that room, true?
Jay:Yes.
Aleeza:Describe where you are in the room.
Jay:Propped up on a pillow on my bed, under the window. I’m listening to the Velvet Underground and wearing a black T-shirt. It stinks in here because my wool sweater got wet in the rain at the Engineering Alumni Scavenger Hunt last night. I’d open the window, but there’s a thunderstorm out there.
I sigh. Of course my new ghost-roommate is a retro-style goth listening to the Velvet Underground. I look over at the bed in question. It’s completely empty. Nothing at all on it but Tentacle Ted. It’s not raining out; it’s snowing. Also? TCU Alumni Month is in October, and this is March. I went to a journalism alumni mixer back then.
I take a deep breath. This prank is getting way too elaborate. Someone—and I can’t imagine who—wants me to think I’m losing my mind, but I am not going to let them anymore. I take screenshots of our conversation, and head out of my room without saying goodbye to the ghost, or prankster, or construct of my subconscious brain.
I need food to figure out what’s going on.
I walk to the Central dining hall for dinner. My heart’s still racing, and I’m probably white as a ghost. Honestly, I half expect Mia or someone to jump out from behind a bush laughing about this joke they’re playing on me.
I calm down a bit after getting my dinner. Good food always relaxes me. The beef vindaloo bowl is no chicken korma, but the warm spices and fragrant basmati rice clear my head enough to think. Who would pretend to be Jay to mess with me? Mia seems the obvious answer, but honestly, a joke like this isn’t like her. Not that I don’t think she’d do something nasty to me for leaving our dorm room, but this is just too ... slick. Calculating. Mia would take revengeby making fun of me in public. I suppose her boyfriend, Lance, is a possibility, but he’s never seemed anywhere close to smart enough to pull something like this off. And I don’t think I’ve made any other enemies at TCU. I’ve barely made any friends.
I take out my phone and do some googling. First, I find a listing of all the alumni events from last October. Therewasan Engineering Scavenger Hunt. It was on the eighteenth of October—almost five months ago. I find a site that reports the weather anywhere in the world on any historical date and search for October 18. It was raining heavily in Toronto that night. And there were thunderstorms the next night, on October 19.
This can’t be real. There is absolutely no way.
But what if itisreal? What if I found some sort of time-skip that’s letting me talk to Jay before he disappears? It’s utterly preposterous. But I’m either stuck in a paranormal anomaly, or someone hates me enough to want me tothinkI am. Or I suppose a third option is that I’ve lost my mind. Or maybe this is a dream. I pinch myself. Hard. When I squeal in pain, a guy at a nearby table looks at me, concerned.
“Bit my tongue,” I say. He turns back around, shrugging.
I exhale. Honestly, the first explanation—that I found a time loop—is the most palatable right now.
Instead of going back to the room after dinner, I go to the library to research this time thing to see if it’s real. But after about ten minutes of reading about time travel and time anomalies, I remember why I dropped grade-twelve physics. The theory of relativity makes no sense to me, and I’m pretty sure there isn’t a wormhole in my dorm room.
I am not a scientist. I’m an investigator. So I consider the problem like an investigator. How would Sherlock Holmes, Veronica Mars, or the Scooby Gang approach this? They would look at the facts and evidence. And so far, all the evidence I have—the screenshots of our conversation, the weather back in October, Kegan at the housing office, and the engineering alumni event—point to me and Jay being in different times. And even if I think that it’s impossible, I should remember thatmany things mankind once thought was impossible turned out to be real. Like space travel, computers, and cell phones. Hell, there are people currently growing lab-created meat. Which,gross. But also, who am I to say what’s possible or impossible? I never made it through physics.
I need more evidence before I accept this, though. And I think I know how to get it.
FIVE
I’m shaking when I get back to the room, still weirded out. I immediately open ResConnect and message Jay.
Aleeza:I just finished my dinner.
Jay:And? Did you find another room to move into?
Aleeza:Can you confirm some more things for me? What’s the date today?
Jay:It’s the 19th.
I feel dread in the pit of my stomach as I ask for more details.
Aleeza:What month?
Jay:October. Why are you asking these questions like I’ve lost my mind or something?
