The clock blinked 7:02 a.m. again. Same gray light on the curtains, same five kids in the same sleeping bags, same syrup on the same five plates. The pancakes tasted like wet cardboard, just like before. Pip counted on her fingers. "Guys," she whispered, "this is the fourth morning. The fourth time. We keep starting over." Mara dropped her fork. "Okay. So how do we make it stop?"

"It's the pancakes," Mara said suddenly. "Every loop, we eat them. Every loop, it resets. What if eating them is what locks us in?" Five plates of gray cardboard pancakes sat steaming on the table. Nobody had finished theirs yet this time.