Madzikanda shakes her head. ‘Nope. But this is the first time I’ve seen it happen to two people simultaneously.’ She glances between us as if something has occurred to her, but she doesn’t want to say it out loud. ‘Some years I don’t even notice anything unusual, and it’s impossible to say whether the day looped or not. Other years the students talk to me afterwards – tell me that I helped them – but obviously I don’t remember. Sometimes I wonder how many times I’ve looped round, year after year.’
‘Maybe that’s why you’re such a wise old owl,’ Kellen says.
Madzikanda frowns. ‘That’s the second time you’ve called me old.’
‘It was a compliment!’
‘I’m sure you thought it was a compliment …’
‘But how long has this been happening?’ I ask. ‘This school is ancient.’
‘Hard to say.’ She shrugs. ‘But you should read the yearbook – there are some very cryptic messages. Somebody in 1926 wrote about the prom they “never thought would end”. But perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Maybe it was just a particularly rough night.’
‘Wait, I saw that!’ I say. ‘It was the first entry that jumped out at me!’
‘What about the other teachers?’ Kellen says. ‘Is Harrington in on it?’
‘He doesn’t have a single clue. None of them do. I’ve hinted at it over the years, but they’re all completely oblivious. It’s frustrating, really. They’re teaching fractions while the fabric of reality tears down the seams on a regular basis.’
‘And yet here you are teaching PE, miss,’ Kellen says with a twinkle.
‘Do you really think that’s why I’m here? To watch you lot puffing around the playing field? I’m here because there’s something special in these walls. Something that’s never been documented. I want to stick around and see it.’
‘You should make a Netflix documentary!’ I say. ‘I’ll help you with it. Just wait until I graduate from film school. Imagine the money we’d make!’
She chuckles at that. ‘It’s a nice idea, Zach. But who’s ever going to believe us?’
‘We can find proof,’ I say. ‘Interview everyone who’s been through it! Find receipts to back up their stories! There has to be a way to prove it, right?’
‘I’ve yet to find one,’ she says. ‘But I’m open to ideas.’
‘And it’s always prom night?’ Kellen asks.
‘It’s always prom night. Just be glad you’re not stuck in the Covid year …’
‘Oh my God,’ I say, imagining endless days of social distancing and wearing masks. And not the fun masquerade kind. What a terrible prom that must have been.
‘Shaaba Singh,’ Madzikanda recalls. ‘Always said she wanted to be a doctor. She actually convinced herself that the way to break her loop was to stop the pandemic.’
‘You’re joking!’ Kellen gasps.