**WATTYS 2022 WINNER** Seventeen-year-old Evelyn Werth is on an endless flight from hell. She's the only person onboard Aloha Airways Flight 1333 who's caught in a 28-minute time loop.
During each cycle, four things happen:
1. The Internet goes out...
A strange compulsion forces me to reach over and grab her hand. Her fingers wrap around mine automatically, without thought, and a sudden chill runs up my arm as my stomach tightens and drops. A little like the nosedive, but a much more pleasant one. One I wouldn't mind experiencing over and over again.
But then Evelyn pulls her hand back, her breath quick. Words begin tumbling out of her mouth. "The first couple times I didn't really think anything of it. I mean I just thought it was you, you know?"
I shake my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Heather appears in the aisle next to us and offers us a bag of pretzels, but we both shake our heads. My attention is fixed on Evelyn as Margaret, against the window, shifts and mutters loud enough for us to hear. She clearly wants us to take our conversation elsewhere, but I'm not moving an inch until I hear what Evelyn has to say.
Evelyn continues talking, the words tumbling out in a chaotic freefall. "I assumed that it felt strange because things had changed, and it was different now because you were a part of it. Kind of like when someone is in a car crash and somehow time slows down." She's talking so fast, it's hard to keep up. "The wheels skid out from behind you and you're spinning but it's all in slow motion, like time is crawling, and you can remember like ten different thoughts within that fraction of a second."
I exhale. "I don't have the faintest clue what you're talking about."
Evelyn blinks, her brown eyes steady on me. She rubs her temples and takes a deep breath, composing herself. When her eyes meet mine again, she forces a smile.
"It's probably nothing," she then says again, and I'm not sure if she's trying to convince me or herself. "Look, if we're going to figure this whole loop thing out, we should probably get to work," Evelyn adds, shifting the subject as if nothing just happened. As if she could just erase all the words she just said, and all the worry on her face.
"I should introduce you to some of the folks around here and get you situated," she chatters on, trying to get as much distance between her and whatever it was she was trying to tell me. "I have an idea. I'll give you a tour."
"Of the plane?"
"Where else?" Evelyn replies, but she's still avoiding eye contact. She pops up and shimmies past my knees. I reach out and lightly touch her hand, stopping her. Again, I feel that energy buzz through my fingertips.
"I can't let it go. You seem really concerned," I try again. "You know, whatever it is, you can tell me."
Evelyn's mouth twitches, and the plane starts to bounce. "Just come on," she brushes my words off and she's in the aisle now. She smiles again, but it's uneven and wavy, like it was drawn with a Sharpie. "There's a lot of people to meet, even though they won't remember who we are in about sixteen minutes. But you will."
Not knowing what else to do, I trail behind her.
"You already met Mags who sits in the window seat next to me." Evelyn says in an upbeat tone like I'm the new kid in town, and she's showing me around. "She's a widow from Portishead, a coastal town in western England. Her husband passed three years ago after 35 years of marriage – bless his heart – so she decided to travel and see the world."
Turbulence sways the cabin back and forth, intermixed with some rattling. I hold onto the headrests of the seats on both sides of me and stumble forward, trying to keep up with Evelyn. She's moving down the aisle completely at ease, as if she's used to it.
Because, I remind myself, she is.
She's very used to it.
"Logan Vayakin over there will lend me his Nintendo Switch for ten minutes if I get him talking about his cars – an old Mustang convertible he's been fixing up for years and a Chevy something or another. He can rebuild an engine from scratch, take apart a transmission and put it back together again. Impressive but completely useless information for airplane loop-solving mysteries."
"Wait," I clench the tops of the seats as I follow her. "Sorry, I can't let it go. You can't say cryptic stuff like that, and then take off without explaining it. You said, the first couple times I thought it was you."
I hurry up to her, unsteady on my legs, as the airplane bounces underneath me. "You thought what was me?"
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