Page 41 of A Thousand Second Chances

“Great,” I say a touch too cheerfully. “Then, let’s head down and meet up with Percy. If this is anything like that first Saturday, we’ve got a long, boring day ahead of us.”

“Onlyyoucould be so blasé about experiencing the impossible,” Quinn says. “I, for one, can’t wait to see what happens!”

“And you sayI’mbeing blasé?”

She glares at me without any heat as she tugs on her coat and meets me in the hall. “Keeping myself open to the world and its myriad wonders hardly counts. Better that than shutting them out.”

“I don’t shut the world out!” She gives me a disbelieving look, and I backtrack. “I don’t shutyouout.”

Her face softens, and before I can stop her, she reaches over and pinches my cheek affectionately.

I swat her hand away. “What the hell, Quinn?”

“Sometimes you’re just so precious, I can’t resist.” Blushing slightly, I make to move past her, but she slides in front of me, her face turning serious. “You know I care about you, right? All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I’m happy,” I mutter, looking away to disguise the lump in my throat. She doesn’t reply, so I add, “And I’ll be even happier once I’m free of whatever the hell is going on with this stupid trip.”

Poor as it is, my attempt at humor breaks some of the tension, and she grins, her eyes dancing as she steps back to let me pass. “Hey, you could’ve done a whole lot worse than Mackinac Island for eternal purgatory.”

Despite my lackluster grumbling, she’s got a point. My beef is less with the location itself and more with my fellow prisoner—the guy I seem to flip-flop between wanting to punch and wanting to kiss so often that it makes my head spin. Things were so much simpler when I could keep my distance and hate Percy Wentworth from afar. Apparently, seeing him sad and vulnerable is my kryptonite.

Percy’s already outside when Quinn and I join the procession, Oshkoff checking us off on her obnoxious clipboard. He gives me a tight smile but otherwise keeps his distance. That’s probably for the best. And notjustbecause it more accurately follows the original timeline.

Shoving down a vague feeling of disappointment, I follow Percy’s lead, sticking with Quinn and mostly giving him a wide berth as we follow Oshkoff to fetch our bikes and set off on Lake Shore Drive around the island. Quinn even keeps up a steady commentary like she had that first Saturday, though instead ofhistorical facts about the island, I’m treated to a ceaseless list of potential ‘clues.’

“Ohh, look at that rock! Was that an arcane symbol?”

“It’s a stone with a scratch on it.”

“Or how aboutthatboulder there? Is that blood? Do you think it could be a sacrificial altar?”

“That’s sunlight reflecting off the limestone, Quinn.”

“Oh mygod!Did you see that? Whatwasthat? Some sort of dark omen?”

“It’s a bird, Quinn. You know, the animal with wings and a beak?”

And so it went.

With anyone else it might’ve been obnoxious, but Quinn’s too sincerely enthusiastic for me to stay mad at her. It’s like she’s genuinely thrilled to be part of our grand adventure. Her enthusiasm proves contagious, and I follow her lead after a while, shouting out my own inane observations. We draw a few wary looks from nearby students and a mocking laugh from Devon but screw them. None of their opinions matter to me anyway—not anymore.

From the sidelong looks Quinn occasionally gives me, I have a feeling that cheering me up was her real objective all along. For all my whining and complaining, I truly am lucky to have someone like her in my corner.

Percy, for his part, hangs back like he did on that first bike trip. Seeing his downcast eyes, I almost ask him to ride with Quinn and me. But what excuse would I give him? It’s not like we’re engaged in any real investigative work at the moment. So, I let him be.

We stop once again at Dwightwood Spring, and without any prompting, Quinn waits until Oshkoff’s back is turned to sneak a sip. Count on her to consistently defy authority for fun, no matter which version of reality we’re in. This time, I don’t botherarguing with her, grinning and doing the same. The water’s cool and crisp but with a hint of extra minerals.

“Move, Rawley. The rest of us want to see the spring up close, too.”

Aaand there’s Devon, come to stomp all over my good spirits right on cue.

“Beat it, Jackson,” I growl. I don’t look at him, knowing that’ll piss him off. “You can have whatever’s left when Quinn and I are done.”

“Chris…” Quinn says, the warning clear in her voice.

But I just tighten my hands at my sides and bend down for another sip of spring water while pointedly ignoring Devon.

A rough hand grips my shoulder, spinning me around to see Devon looming over me, a snarl on his face and his cadre of buddies at his back.