Page 31 of A Thousand Second Chances

Chris and Quinn fall silent. Chris narrows his eyes at me like he wants to protest, but Quinn jumps in, beaming. “Well, now that Oshkoff’s on our side, we’ve got the entire day to ourselves. She won’t expect to see us until dinner, and I’m sure I can wiggle us out of that, too, if we want. I suggest we start by talking to people.”

“Talkingto people?” Chris says doubtfully. “That’syour master plan?”

She shrugs. “I know it might sound like torture to you, but can you think of a better way to gather information about any weird events? Even if we don’t find anyone who experienced what you two did, maybe someone’s seen something else peculiar.”

“Peculiar, how?” Chris asks, furrowing his brow. “You think we’re going to run into someone who saw aliens in the woods or has a crazy invention hidden in their basement?”

“You never know until you ask,” Quinn replies, undeterred.

“She’s got a point,” I say, trying not to wilt as Chris levels his glare back on me. “I mean, not that I expect to findthosethings, per se. But if we’re going to investigate, it makes sense to follow every possible lead. Maybe we’ll get lucky and stumble on something.”

Chris stares at me a moment longer, then waves a hand and turns away. “Whatever.”

Not exactly a glowing endorsement, but given the circumstances, I’ll take it. Honestly, the way things are going, every minute Chris and I spend in close proximity without murdering each other feels like its own sort of victory.

fifteen

Chris

Okay, so maybe canvassingMain Street for reports of strange occurrences—like, say, reliving the same day over again—isn’t the best idea. It had seemed a reasonable enough place to start gathering clues when Quinn suggested it, but it turns out people aren’t eager to spill their guts to a group of crazy college students harassing them on the street. Most smile politely in a way that suggests they’d rather be anywhere else. A few encounters go even less smoothly.

We pass a woman pushing a stroller with one hand while tugging on a small boy with the other. They’re both dressed in far more layers than the mild October chill deserves and appear equally miserable. We probably would’ve skirted around them if not for the comment we catch as we walk by.

“—can’tbelievethat actually happened,” she’s muttering to herself. “Why, I’ve never seen anything like it in my life!”

Quinn and I share a look. I muffle a sigh when I catch her face scrunching up with determination. I’ve got a bad feeling aboutthis, but it’s nigh impossible to talk Quinn down once she’s made up her mind, and a quick glance at Percy’s intrigued expression shows I’ll find no help from him. I’m not sure what happened to his earlier hesitance, but he seems to have embraced our investigation whole-heartedly.

I trudge after Quinn as she approaches the frazzled-looking woman, Percy a few steps behind. “Excuse me?” she calls. “Miss?”

The woman pauses, fixing Quinn with a distrustful scowl. “Can I help you?”

Quinn gives an easy smile. “I hope so. We couldn’t help but overhear you say something incredible had happened to you?”

The woman’s scowl deepens. “Incredibleis far from the word I’d use to describe it.Incomprehensible, more like.”

Quinn leans forward eagerly. “Incomprehensible, you say? It certainly sounds like a lot to deal with.” Her voice oozes sympathy, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. She’s laying it on even thicker than she did with Oshkoff.

The woman, however, eats it up. “You don’t know the half of it! As if it’s not bad enough my good-for-nothing husband bowed out of our family vacation at the last moment. ‘Work,’ my ass,” she snorts, shaking her head. “Now, here I am, supposed to somehow manage two kids on my own in the middle of all this mess!” She tugs on the little boy’s arm as she speaks. He winces, trying to pull away, and the woman turns her ire on him. “Be good, Em! You’ve caused enough trouble this morning as it is.”

Anger flares in me as I watch the little boy bow his head and muffle a sniffle. The woman I assume is his mother doesn’t even seem to notice his distress, already turning back to Quinn. Howdareshe treat her own son like that! Like his feelings don’t matter—likehedoesn’t matter beyond how his actions reflect on her.

Dimly, I’m aware of Quinn commiserating with the woman, continuing to coax her to open up, but all I can focus on is the woman’s hand gripping her son’s arm and the way his face quivers with an all-too-familiar mix of pain, dejection, and shame.

A hand squeezes my arm, and I look up sharply to see Percy there. He must’ve stepped beside me while I was focused on the kid. I tense, preparing to snap at him, but something in his expression stops me. He’s focused on the boy, not on me, and the quiet sympathy he radiates soothes my own ire like a balm. I resist the urge to shift closer to him.

Squeezing my arm one more time, Percy drops his hand and moves to kneel next to the boy. “Hi, there,” he says, his tone full of false cheer. “I’m Percy. What’s your name?”

The boy hesitates, peering up at Percy with wide eyes. “Emmett,” he finally says.

“Nice to meet you, Emmett. How are you enjoying your trip to Mackinac Island so far?”

“It’s all right, I guess.”

“Yeah, it took me a while to warm up to it, too.” Percy wrinkles his nose, waving a hand before it. “Especially the smell.”

There’s only the faintest whiff of manure where we’re standing, but Emmett giggles anyway. “Do you live here?”

Something like sorrow flickers across Percy’s face, replaced an instant later by a soft smile. “No, but I’ve visited a lot. I used to come here with my parents every summer.”