Tobias opens one eye.

Day 21.

He slips out of bed. His feet hit the floor, and he shuffles into his clothing, out into the hallway.

“Good morning,” his mother chirps. “I made you—”

“Pancakes,” Tobias interrupts.. “Yes. Thanks mum, but I'm going to walk to school, so I've got to go.” He waves to her before shoving his hands into his pockets and shuffling out the front door into the swirling snow outside.

It is day 21. Groundhog Day number 21.

He decides to go to class, even though there is nothing new there. The teacher will still drop her pen on the floor. Billie Jean will still knock over the pencil sharpener and spill the shavings on the carpet. Everyone will still laugh at her, the way they have for the past three weeks.

“People don't change,” Tobias grumbles. He yanks the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to keep the snow from getting his hair wet. The flakes stick to the fabric instead. He forgot his yellow umbrella today, like he does some days. Thank God it's Friday, he thinks, even if tomorrow is also Friday. The next day too. The day after that. The school comes up on the horizon, two blocks away, and he shuffles a little faster.

It's like the nineties flick. It's like Groundhog Day. Only instead of having to cover the same news report every day, he has to go to the same English class and listen to the teacher talk about the same literary devices. He ends up taking the same quiz on the same part of Lord of the Flies. When he's feeling particularly bored, he announces very loudly when the teacher calls on him that the butterflies signify Simon's homosexual inclinations for Ralph.

Sometimes it's Jack.

The teacher stands at the front of the room, smiling. “Hello class,” she says. Tobias lets his head droop and rests it on his curled up arms. “Today we're going to be taking a pop quiz on Lord of the Flies, followed by a class discussion and some independent or partner worksheets. If everyone will please get out a piece of paper and something write with, we can begin.”

“Can I borrow a pencil?”

Tobias jumps out of his skin.

“What?” he demands, turning around to face a boy he's never seen before. “What the fuck do you want?”

The boy's head lowers. “I just wanted a pencil.” The colour is draining from his face.

Tobias is sure he is just as white. Leander sits behind him. Leander never talks, just writes in scribbly handwriting, head down, eyes glued to his paper. He never raises his hand for anything and the teacher seems to have forgotten he exists altogether. At no time during the last 21 days has he so much as breathed a word about anything, let alone asked Tobias for a pencil.

“Let me see if I have one,” Tobias spits, rummaging through his bag, looking for an extra pencil. He comes up with an eraserless stub, which he shoves into Leander's grasp.

Leander looks stunned and nods shakily. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “I needed one. Forgot mine at home today.”

The teacher looks over at them, raising an eyebrow, but she doesn't say anything.

Tobias turns back to his writing.

Today, the butterflies signify Simon's innocence, because today is special enough to warrant the correct answer.

Day 22, and Tobias is waiting by the side door. Leander slides in fifteen minutes early.

“Do you have a pencil?” Tobias asks.

Leander looks up quickly, eyes widening. “What? Oh. Yes.” He holds pulls a pencil out of his pocket and holds it, shakily, out to Tobias. “Here. I have more.”

“Why did you bring extras?” All sorts of excited feelings are welling up inside of Tobias. Something has changed. This is not quite the same Day 22; this is almost a whole new Day 1. He plucks the pencil out of Leander's hand. “Well? Why'd you bring extra pencils?”

“In case I needed them!” Leander exclaims. He takes a step back, away from Tobias. “Why didn't you bring one today?”

Tobias shrugs. “Forgot mine at home today,” he says, the same as Leander said the day before. “I really wanted to use my own.”
Leander takes the pencil back. “I'm sure there's one in the bottom of your bag.”

“What if there is?”

He looks confused, but Tobias doesn't let up. At the very least, Leander won't remember this tomorrow. Tobias is gleeful at the other boy's panic. “Then there is,” Leander half-squeaks. “Why don't you look? Maybe there's a little one—”

“No eraser?” Tobias grins. “What if I want one with an eraser?”

Leander holds out his smooth, unsharpened pencil. “Here,” he says, voice quiet. “Just use this one. I...I don't know why I brought extras today. Just take the pencil or don't or something.”

Tobias shakes his head. “No, I've got one.” He takes his own Stolen From The Fourth Street Bank pencil out of his pocket and tucks it behind his ear. “Thanks anyway,” he says, winking at Leander. The other boy shuffles to his spot and sits down, completely quiet.

“Today we're going to be taking a pop quiz on Lord of the Flies, followed by a class discussion and some independent or partner worksheets. If everyone will please get out a piece of paper and something write with, we can begin.”

Even though he has to do the same worksheets for the 22nd day in a row, Tobias is just a little more excited. He finishes his Ys with little flourishes and dots the I in his name with a tiny star. Today, he decides —meanwhile announcing that Simon is secretly queer— is going to be a good day.

“Hey.”

Tobias grabs Leander by the arm and wrenches him into the hallway. “Class...” Leander protests weakly. “We're taking a quiz.”

“How do you know?”

Leander —whose eyes had been dancing around from side to side and whose hands had been bouncing against his leg— freezes. “Didn't she say that yesterday?”

“It's a pop quiz.”

Leander shakes Tobias off and takes off down the hallway. Tobias blinks and goes after him, running as fast as he can, dodging the janitor and a cheerleader talking on her cellphone. The first bell rings but neither of them slow. They get outside where the snow is sinking to earth in progressively enlarging snowflakes. Puffs of white jumps up as they shoot down the pavement.

Eventually, they just walk.

“Stop following me!” Leander shouts. “Everything is just fine.”

“Except that you're cutting class because someone asked you how you knew about a pop quiz. That's totally normal.” Tobias shakes his head, dislodging snowflakes and their melted counterparts from his hair. “Anyone else would have claimed they guessed. Not you though.”

Leander stops walking and leans against a dying tree. “You,” he purses his lips, “will think I'm crazy.”

“Late for that,” Tobias says. He crosses his arms, examining the other teenager. Inside his chest, his heart is pounding: half from cold air, half from the fact that something is different and someone else notices. “Just try me.”

“I re-live the same day over and over again.”

He doesn't mean to throw his arms around the other boy, but he does.

Leander stiffens and tries to push Tobias off. “Please let go of me,” he squeaks, trying to wriggle away. “I...don't need a hug or anything, and I'm not crazy.” He shakes his head until his black hair curls in front of his eyes. “Not like you'll know it anyway.”

Tobias pulls back. “Sorry,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets and pretending they're as cold as they were a second ago. “Me too.”

“I know you're not crazy—”

“No,” Tobias interrupts. “I mean that I re-live the same day over and over. It's like a loop or something. Same thing. Day after day. This is day 23.”

Leander blinks and shakes his head. “No,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. “It's not true. You're screwing with me.” He turns and starts trudging back in the direction of the school. The bell for the beginning of class sounds through the frigid air, but his pace doesn't speed up.

“I'm not!” Tobias jogs to catch up with him, having stalled for a long moment to process the exchange. “I mean, it's true. The test question is 'what do the butterflies symbolize?' and the answer is 'innocence', right?”

Leander snorts. “Immortal soul. But close.”

Tobias does not want to admit he's been getting the answer wrong for 23 days. “Well. Yeah. Sure.” He smiles nervously and runs his fingers through his hair. “So every day. You...wait, why aren't you off doing something exciting?”

“I don't see you doing anything else yourself,” Leander mutters. He curls his hands into fists and the blood rushes from them. “You never know when it will go back to normal. Have to keep everything as normal as possible.”

The thought disgusts Tobias. He'd spent the past three weeks trying to make days as interesting as possible. “Every day you do the same thing?”

“Best I can. The other day, I forgot my pencil.”

“I noticed.”
“I know.”

Tobias shakes his head. He stops in front of the school and stares at it. “I never noticed you were different,” he mumbles. “But didn't you notice when I didn't show up? I mean, at least once. Not that I assumed you, you know, paid that much attention to me.”

Leander shrugs. “Sometimes you didn't show up. I was never sure why. Sometimes you'd say stuff that was different, and I wasn't ever sure why about that either.” He shakes his head again.

“And you never tried to talk to me?”

“And say what?” Leander demands, slapping the air with his hands. “What was I going to say to you? 'Hi, my name is Leander and I've been living the same day for six months'?”

Tobias' breath hitches. “Six months?”

“That's when the loop started,” Leander explains. “And you were just like everyone else. Then you started getting...weird. With the class discussion.”

“Three weeks ago. This is Day 23.”

They stare at each other for a long moment.

“You want to come over tonight?” Tobias asks finally. “I mean, it's not like there's anything else to do. Whatever it is, you can do it tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day.” He finds a dry laugh in the back of his throat.

Leander stares at the pavement. “I don't know. What if—”

“What if it goes back to normal tomorrow?” Tobias shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut. “Then you and I hung out on a Friday night. It's not like it's dangerous.”

Glancing back and forth, Leander's shoulder slump. “Okay,” he murmurs. “We'll go to your house tonight.”

They sit cross-legged in Tobias' bedroom.

The blue clock on the wall clicks, second after second.

“What are we waiting for?” asks Leander. He looks down at the red plate sitting next to him on the carpet. He picks up the half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich and he takes a bite of it.

“Dunno. I can't sleep.” Tobias wraps his arms around his legs and rests his chin on his knees. “It's...weird. I'm not so lonely any more.”

Leander shivers. “This is...crazy.”

“Don't you wonder?” Tobias leans forward. “What causes it? Did you think you were crazy?”

Leander looks down at his sock-covered toes. “I still think I'm crazy.”

“You're not.” Tobias reaches out and touches the other teenager's shoulder. “You're not crazy. I'm not crazy. This is happening.”

“How can you be sure?” Leander demands, cramming the last of his sandwich into his mouth. Tobias made them out of the last four slices of bread, and he'll make more from the same tomorrow.

“Jumped off a building on day 16,” Tobias says. He takes a drink of milk, unperturbed. “You would have heard all about it, had there been a tomorrow. They would have cried.”

Leander's eyes widen. “What if you'd died?” he asks. “What if you'd—”

“I'd have gone crazy,” Tobias interrupts. “And I didn't die.”

Before Leander can say anything, there is a knocking on the door. “Tobias! Is your friend staying the night?”

Tobias snorts. “You want to fall asleep here?”

Leander's shoulders slump. “I guess. It's not like there's anything I have to get back to.” He shakes his head.

Tobias' mother opens the door and peers in. She smiles pleasantly at the both of them. “So are you staying, Leander?”

Leander looks up at her. “Yeah. It's Saturday tomorrow.”

“Oh good. I'll make waffles.”

She shuts the door.

Tobias heaves a sigh. “And I liked waffles so much.”

So I had a film marathon today, and I ended up watching 50 First Dates, Groundhog Day, and The Truman Show.
I let it cook.
It became this.

I don't know where it's going, but I think it will be fun to write. I have other things to work on, but this was what was calling to me.

Reviews. Oh please. They make my life.