Oh, not again.
No, not again. Not the same time, this time. It isn't like I jumped forward, this time, I lived.
This is my…bed. My childhood home.
Or maybe this isn't real?
It's like six in the morning. Do I have school tomorrow? Today?
****.
But who can I ask? Is…
Cassie.
I can always talk to Cassie.
And you'd think, after how many years of sneaking around, I could keep quiet.
"Jake?"
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?"
"No. No." And I start to cry, right there in the kitchen.
I can't tell Mom why, but she holds me anyway.