Martin was slightly disappointed.

It was 2:30, he was in the middle of E block, and nothing magical had happened.

His dream was wrong.

‘Hey, at least we now know for sure. Now, can we get to the important things?’, the rational part of his brain inquired.

‘…’

‘Oh, come on. Just accept that it was false, and move on with your life.’

‘But still … I wanted to be a wizard…’

‘Well, there is a major flaw with that desire. That is, wizards don’t exist.’

‘But maybe they do exist, just, y’know, out of sight.’

‘Unlikely. Plus, we have other, more important things to do.’

‘Yeah, yeah, school. You keep repeating the same thing over and over.’

‘No, I mean joining the track club. Clearly, you can’t handle asking Emily out, so let’s try something new.’

‘Wait, what?! The school-obsessed maniac cares about something other than grades?!’

‘We’re the same person, you ass. I care about the same things you do. I just take a more rational approach to things. Why am I justifying my thought process to myself?’

Martin snapped back to reality. He glanced at the clock, praying for the day to be over.

It was 2:45.

Damnit, five more minutes …

“And so, the biggest reason behind the fall of Japan in World War Two was … Yes, Thomas?”

“The atom bombs!”

“Yes, but while that was a major factor, Japan had actually been teetering on the brink …”

God, this class was boring.

Martin glanced up at the clock again.

It was 2:46.

He watched the seconds pass by, as the clock ticked away.

Finally, at 2:50 PM, the bell rang, and Martin was free.

He shoved his notebook (which he hadn’t used all year) and his pencils (always sharpened; never used) into his backpack and dashed out the door, heading straight for the front gates.

He paused halfway through.

Should he head for the track club room now?

Yeah, he probably should.

But what if they laugh in his face, saying he’s not good enough?

Nah, impossible. Martin had pride in his track skills. He was one of the fastest kids in the school. No way they’d laugh in his face. If he wanted to change, he should start now.

But what if they laughed behind his back at his fairly anti-social behavior?

Well, it wasn’t like he went there to make friends.

Resolve set, Martin smiled, and then frowned as he realized he had no idea where the track club met.

Probably the kind of thing he could have asked his friends, if he had them.

Martin walked towards the front desk, as he wondered what he should say.

Hi, front desk lady …

Oh.

He had no idea what her name was.

She was always just ‘front desk lady’ to him, and most likely to everyone else as well.

He didn’t want to be rude, though.

Ah, he was here.

No time to check now … or he could pretend he was just walking by, secretly turn around, go to the faculty list, learn her name, and then come back.

That does sound more plausible.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

Jolted out of his thoughts, he stared down at a middle-aged woman with hazel eyes. She looked tired; most likely a result of dealing with so many annoying kids each day.

Wait.

Now he had to talk.

“Um, yeah, uh, do-do you know where the track club is?”

“Well, yes, it’s in room 203. It isn’t meeting today though.”

“Oh-oh. Thanks.”

“No problem!”

Martin slowly turned around and left.

‘See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?’, his now-happy rational side asked.

‘It was really nerve-wracking though … well, I’ll deal with the track club tomorrow.’

‘As much as I hate to admit it, yes, we will have to deal with it tomorrow. You could try doing other things today, like-’

‘No. Just no. That was too hard. I want to go home and play video games. Or read a book. Or do anything but talk.’

‘How are we going to survive with only this much social stamina, man?!’

Martin, now irritated, boarded the bus. As per routine, all of the kids fell silent as he entered. Some glared at him, while some just looked on with apathy. None of the stares were pleasant, however.

Martin quietly sat in the front seat, as usual. The other kids started talking again, and he just silently stared out the window as the bus driver started the engine.

Engine creaking, the bus drove onto the road.

It stopped at each of the designated stops, and finally, after 30 minutes of driving, Martin saw his house through the window.

It was grey and small. His parents either couldn’t afford the continual maintenance that would come with painting it, or just liked the color grey.

He’d never been able to figure out which one it was. His parents were rather … tight-lipped in affairs concerning money.

Whatever.

He stepped into the small house. It felt nice being home again. Both of his parents worked, and it didn’t look like they were home yet.

He had some free time.

He went back upstairs, and pulled out his dusty old desktop he’d been using since he was eight. He logged in, and opened a game of online Uno.

That, embarrassingly enough, was all his computer could handle.

Being a master at the game after being able to play it and only it for seven years, he quickly defeated his opponents and moved on to the next match.

He beat his next opponents too.

Of course, Uno may be somewhat about skill, but it’s mostly about luck.

He lost the next one, and that’s when the front door creaked open. He quickly shut off his computer, pulled out his English homework and a pencil, and got to work.

He got halfway through his homework, a small question and answer sheet on what they had read for homework two nights before, before hearing knocking at his door, followed by a slight creak as the door opened.

His dad appeared in the doorframe, a fairly average man in most aspects. He wore a jet-black suit with a navy blue tie and jet-black pants to match.

In case anybody on the street who was passing by him didn’t know, his favorite color was black.

Martin smiled, as he asked, “Hey dad, do you need anything?”

His dad looked at him, tired, as he answered, “No, just … checking up on you.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Then why don’t I ever see you with other kids?”

“I don’t like them, and it’s mutual.”

“This can’t possibly be because of what happened six years ago, can it?”

“Even if it weren’t, they aren’t very interesting people. I just don’t like them, Dad.”

“Well … okay. But still-”

“Yes, yes, try to get along with them.”

His dad’s face morphed into a grimace.

“Look, Martin, we just want you to be happy. Preferably, happy with other people.”

“Thanks, Dad. But I’m fine.”

Sighing, his dad left the room, and Martin concentrated on his homework for the rest of his night.

‘I’m going to go back to track club tomorrow, and I will join. No more excuses,’ he vowed to himself as he went to sleep.

At 11:16 PM, the world stopped turning.

And then it started turning backwards.