Free The First Last Day by Dorian Cirrone Page B

story?”
    â€œIt’s called ‘12:01 P.M.’ ”
    â€œAh yes, that is a classic.”
    â€œSo, you know it? Can you tell me what happens at the end?”
    â€œDo you really want to know? I do not want to spoil it for you.”
    â€œYes. Yes. I want to know!”
    Mr. Sidhu’s dark eyebrows came together. “Let me see. At the end of the story, the man has a heart attack, and he knows he is dying. He thinks the time loop will be over because of his death. But he is wrong. As soon as the clock hits one minute after one o’clock, it bounces back one hour. And the man is alive again.”
    â€œSo he’s still in the time loop? That’s a terrible ending!”
    Mr. Sidhu smiled. “Well then, you will be happy to know the author wrote another story with the same character. It is called ‘12:02 P.M.’ ”
    â€œWhat happens in that story?”
    Mr. Sidhu thought for a minute. “The man thinks he has figured out the solution to his problem. If hethrows himself out of a window, he will be able to get time moving again.”
    â€œWhat?” I rocked back on my heels and almost fell. “He jumps out a window?”
    â€œYes. That is the end of the story.”
    The backs of my legs tingled just thinking about it. But I didn’t think leaping out a window had anything to do with the time loop I was in. “Do you know of any other stories that have to do with a time loop?” I asked. “Maybe that involve paints?”
    Mr. Sidhu hesitated. “It is not exactly about a time loop. But I know of a famous book about a man who wishes on a painting of himself. After that, the portrait grows old, and the man stays young.”
    â€œWhat happens at the end?”
    â€œI believe the artist stabs the painting with a knife.”
    â€œThen what happens?” I held my breath, waiting to hear the answer.
    Mr. Sidhu frowned. “I am not sure I should tell you—it is a little gruesome.”
    â€œPlease, tell me. Tell me!”
    â€œThe portrait changes back to being the man when he was young again and—”
    â€œThe man? What happens to the man?”
    â€œHe withers away.”
    â€œWithers?” I felt like there was a wad of saltwater taffy stuck in my throat.
    Mr. Sidhu nodded and looked around. “I do not think I have a copy of that book.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” I said, heading out to the boardwalk.
    I checked my reflection in the glass door on the way out. I had to find out where those paints came from—before I ended up like that guy in the book.

CHAPTER 28
    A fter leaving Mr. Sidhu’s shop, I texted Kevin and told him I’d wait for him at Annie’s. I had to get time moving again. And that meant I had to find the directions to the paints. But where were they? And how could I find them if I didn’t know where the paints came from?
    I flashed back to when I’d first seen the yellow box on the night of the first last day. It hadn’t been in my backpack when I left the house that morning. That meant someone had to have given me the box at some point during that day.
    But who?
    And why?
    I decided to make a list of people and places I’d seen that first day. I grabbed my pencil and sketchpad from my backpack and began writing frantically:
    1. Met Kevin on boardwalk and went to Annie’s for breakfast.
    2. Looked at Serena’s sketches.
    3. Went to Mr. Sidhu’s store with Kevin.
    4. Ate Italian ice with Kevin on boardwalk.
    5. Swam and sculpted stegosaurus with Kevin and Mateo on beach.
    6. Waited while Kevin went to get cow suit.
    7. Made cannolis with Kevin and G-Mags.
    8. Went home to change.
    9. Went to Atlantic City.
    A. Observed gamblers.
    B. Ate tacos.
    C. Shopped for souvenirs.
    D. Watched magic show.
    E. Played mini golf.
    10. Had dinner with Kevin’s family.
    I studied the list. Did I have enough