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?"

"The clock," Pip said. "Every reset happens when it hits 7:02. Maybe if we mess with the clock, we mess with the loop." The five of them crowded around the little alarm clock on Mara's dresser. It hummed softly, way too warm to touch.

Pip flipped the clock over and pried off the back panel. Instead of batteries, there was a tiny folded note inside. She opened it with shaking hands. In neat little letters it said: "To stop the morning, someone has to stay awake through it."

"Stay awake through it," Pip repeated. "So last time we all dozed off right at 7:02 and it grabbed us." They linked arms in a circle and pinched each other to stay sharp. The clock clicked to 7:02. The gray light flared bright, daring them to blink.

They didn't blink. They didn't sleep. The bright light pushed and pushed, then suddenly gave up and faded. The clock ticked to 7:03 for the very first time. A bird chirped outside. Real sunlight, warm and gold. "We did it," Pip laughed. "We just stayed awake."