16
It was Monday back in my world, and Halli showed up to my school covered in sweat.
“Overslept again, huh?” Winslow Henry said with a smirk.
“Excuse me?” Halli answered. She’d been just about to walk in to my first-period class—Algebra I—when this short, scrawny guy started talking to her.
“You’re sweating again,” Winslow said. The last time he’d seen me like that was a few weeks before, when I was still trying to deal with the time zone difference of meeting Halli in the Alps every night. On one of the mornings after, I accidentally slept through my first two classes and had to race to make it to school by the third. I showed up all sweaty and breathless. And since Winslow is in both my first and third periods, he knew that I’d missed. And since Winslow is Winslow, he enjoyed giving
