5

Josh

“Josh?

“Joshua?

“Joshua Brian Adam James…I don’t actually know your middle name. But that’s not really important right now. You have to wake up.”

I crack one eye open, then the other. The outline of the wild-haired woman looming above me brings a needed rush of relief.

I did it.

I finally woke up.

That was possibly the weirdest and most vivid dream I’ve ever had. For a little while there, I was starting to worry it was something else entirely.

I try to pull myself into a seated position, but as my abs contract, a sharp pain shoots through my rib cage, and I have to lie back down to catch my breath.

“Oh, thank god you’re alive.” Brynn’s arms squeeze my shoulders as she pins me down in a half hug, her dark hair falling onto my face.

“I didn’t think I hit you that hard, but you crumpled like a leaf, and I did take that CPR class once, but the only part I remember is ‘tongue, jaw lift, finger sweep,’ but I’m pretty sure that’s only for choking victims and—”

“Brynn!”

She pulls away, giving me enough space to take in my surroundings. The sky. The street. The giant hunk of bright-red metal pumping hot engine air out its front grille.

Any peace I may have been feeling a moment ago vanishes.

I’m not at home, passed out on the couch, and Brynn isn’t trying to wake me up because I’m sleeping on top of the TV remote.

I’m still in the strange town, with no idea how I got here, and I’ve just been hit by a car.

“What the fudge is going on?”

Wait. What?

“What the fudge is going on?” I try again.

“Why the fudge do I keep saying fudge?”

Brynn throws up her arms. “You can’t swear either. It’s not just me. That’s totally weird, right?”

It is weird.

Everything is weird.

“When did you get here?” I move my head tentatively, still unsure if I’ve actually injured anything.

“Just now. You jumped right out in front of my car,” she says, almost accusatory. “What were you doing just walking into the street without looking, and more importantly, what are you doing here?”

I have no idea.

I remember getting home from the bar last night, then that weird guy at the door, and after that, everything becomes fuzzy.

“I woke up in this strange bedroom,” I attempt to explain. “At first, I thought I might be dreaming, but it all seemed so real. It was in this old warehouse building. I walked down these steps, and there was a big room that looked like a bar underneath.”

What I don’t tell her is that, at that point, I was pretty sure I was in a nightmare.

I had them for months after my dad died. Panicked dreams where I was in his bar and I couldn’t get the taps to pour beer, and people kept demanding more and more, but I couldn’t make anything work.

This bar was different though.

“The place was empty. I actually wondered if maybe it was closed down. I was able to find the front door, and I started walking down the street. I was trying everything to wake myself up and…” I turn my head to the red Mini Cooper that hit me, its engine still running in the middle of the road. “Well, I guess I haven’t succeeded yet.”

Brynn reaches down her hand to help me up. I’m able to get to my feet this time. Nothing feels broken. I’m just a little dazed and bruised.

“I think I’ve figured out what’s going on.” She inclines her head toward the Mini’s passenger-side door. “It might be easier to show you rather than tell you.”

It takes a moment for my brain to catch up to what she’s proposing. She waits patiently until I finally process that we’re getting in the car, and I move to get in the passenger side. We both buckle up. I’m still uncertain of exactly what we’re doing as Brynn pulls a U-turn and then slows the car to a crawl as we drive back down the main street.

“There.” She points at a white brick building that reads Pharmacy in etched gold letters on the front window. “That’s Doc Martin’s pharmacy. It’s where Fletcher Scott bought his first pack of condoms when he decided it was time to lose his virginity, but then got caught by Spencer’s dad. And that…” She points at what looks like a beauty parlor. “That’s the salon where Poppy Bensen went from a homely nobody to a gorgeous redheaded bombshell and then won the role of captain of the cheer squad over her nemesis, Luce Cho. And that”—she points at a painted banner hanging above us—“is announcing the seventy-fifth Ms. Lobsterfest pageant. There is only one place that I have ever heard of that has an annual beauty pageant called the Ms. Lobsterfest.”

I have so many questions, but Brynn doesn’t allow me to ask them.

“Finally, there.” She stops the car this time and rolls down her window so I have an unobstructed view of a white gazebo on a large patch of grass. “That’s the spot where Spencer said goodbye to Sloan because he was leaving for LA. It’s all here, Josh.”

Brynn holds up her hands as if she’s just presented an irrefutable case, but I’m still lost.

“So where are we?”

She pulls the car into a nearby parking spot and cuts the engine.

“We’re in Carson’s Cove.”

I hear her. I compute her words but am as equally confused as I was a moment ago.

“Carson’s Cove is a real place?”

She shakes her head. “No. I mean, it was supposed to be based on a coastal fishing town in Massachusetts, but it doesn’t actually exist.”

“Then how are we…” I can’t even compose my thoughts enough to string together a complete sentence, but Brynn nods as if she gets it.

“That’s the part I can’t figure out.”

We sit for a few moments in silence, watching a mailman make his way down the street. He waves to a woman in linen pants walking two goldendoodles, then to a bald-headed grocer spraying down the display of vegetables outside his shop.

“Josh.”

I’m aware of Brynn calling my name, but I’m too preoccupied with finding a logical explanation.

“Josh.” Her tone turns sharp enough to break through my thoughts.

She points at my thigh. “Will you stop it with the jiggly leg? It’s starting to freak me out.”

My leg is shaking like a jackhammer. I’m way past freaked-out and flat out of ideas.

“Could we have sleepwalked here?”

Her brow crinkles as she contemplates this. “Both of us?”

“Good point. Maybe we were kidnapped?”

She throws up her arms. “I thought that too, but who the hell would want to kidnap us? I need a roommate to pay off my mortgage. You work in a bar. I gotta think there are more profitable kidnappees out there.”

“You’re sure we didn’t do drugs last night?” It’s the only other explanation that makes sense.

She shrugs. “If we did, I don’t remember it. You didn’t eat any of that cake, did you?”

I shake my head. “No, did you?”

She thinks for a moment. “No. But I did—” She doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, she gets out of the car, practically sprints across the street, and stands in front of a redbrick building with a large storefront window.

I follow, and when I cross the street, I find her with her hands cupped around her eyes and her face pressed so close to the glass that it fogs up with every exhale.

“What are you doing?”

She takes a step back, pointing at the window. “That cake last night. It looked an awful lot like the one on that stand, right?”

I glance at the display of cookies and sweets, as well as the cake in question. It does look almost identical to the one Brynn got last night, complete with the birthday candle.

“The name on the box seemed familiar,” Brynn continues. “But I couldn’t place it. The bakery wasn’t really a big part of the show. The only episode where I think it’s mentioned is the one where it’s Sloan’s sixteenth birthday. Everyone forgets because Poppy and Luce are campaigning against each other for who gets to be class president. Fletcher has been doing community service because he stole his aunt’s car. Spencer is stressing out because the new drama teacher seems to have some sort of grudge against him. Then Sloan is all upset until she comes home late to a dark house, and it’s all been a ruse for a surprise party.” She looks like she’s going to continue with her story but stops, her eyes searching my face.

“Sorry, you didn’t need all of that background info. My point is that the name on the box from last night is the same as the one on this storefront.” She points to the etching on the glass that reads Bake a Wish. “I didn’t make the connection at first, but I’m absolutely sure now that the bakery box was from Carson’s Cove.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.”

I’m suddenly feeling a little weak in the knees, and I wonder if maybe the car hit me harder than I thought.

“Are you okay?” Brynn’s fingers cup my elbow as she cranes her neck to peer up at me.

“I’m fine,” I lie, but her brown eyes study my face as if she’s not buying it.

“I’ve got an idea…. I wonder if…” Her eyes pan the street as if searching for something. “Actually. That’s perfect. Come on.” She grabs my wrist without further explanation.

We get back into the car and drive to the end of the main street. The last building before the road veers into the woods looks like an aluminum can flipped onto its side. Above it is a bright-pink neon sign that reads Pop’s Old-Fashioned Diner.

“You want to eat?” I ask, not entirely sure of her plan.

“This is Pop’s,” she says, as if I’m supposed to know what that means. “It’ll solve everything.”

I follow Brynn out into the parking lot and watch as she skips up all three front steps of the diner and opens the front door.

But I don’t follow.

This is too weird.

Even if Brynn is right and we are in Carson’s Cove, how the hell did we get here? And, more importantly, how do we get home?

Brynn waits for me at the entrance.

“Are you coming?” she calls, as if she’s about to walk into a Tim Hortons, not a fictional diner in a made-up town.

Maybe it’s the tone of her voice.

Or the casual way she props the door open with her hip.

Either way, it snaps me back to reality.

“How is a fictional diner in a television show that we’ve somehow landed in supposed to solve everything? Are you hearing yourself?”

She narrows her eyes back at me. “I have a plan, Josh. You need to trust me.”

“This is insane.” I stand rooted to the spot, the weight of this morning finally hitting me. “You should be freaking out right now, but you’re acting like this is totally normal. Like this is your secret fantasy come true.”

“Okay.” She draws out the word, walking slowly back down the steps until she comes to a stop in front of me. “You’re right. And I was freaking out earlier. I woke up on a lawn chair in a strange place. I have gone through an entire gamut of emotions ever since. And, like you, I have a whole boatload of unanswered questions, but I’d also be lying if I didn’t admit I’m a little curious. I have been obsessed with this place for years—at what is probably an unhealthy level. And now it’s in front of me, and it’s real.” She takes my hand, cupping her fingers over mine.

“I promise you we will figure this out. That’s why I brought you here.” She nods at the diner. “If this really is Carson’s Cove, we are at the place that will give us our answers. It’s where all the characters go when they can’t figure out what to do next. You tell your problems to Pop. He makes you a chocolate milkshake, and by the time you’re done, you know exactly what needs to happen.”

I only half believe her, but I follow her inside with no better idea of what to do instead.

The interior of Pop’s looks exactly like I expected for a place that calls itself an old-fashioned diner. The floors are checkered black and white. There’s a long white bar with red leather stools and rows of vinyl booths that look like they’ve been transported straight from the 1950s. Along the far wall sits an old-fashioned jukebox, although the music crooning out sounds more like late-2000s emo than ’50s rock. The whole diner smells like french fries and coffee.

There are no other customers. The place is empty save for a single guy standing behind the counter in a white apron and red-and-white-striped polo shirt.

When Brynn mentioned Pop, I pictured an old dude with gray hair and possibly a mustache. The guy behind the counter is in his twenties and has bleached-blond hair sticking up as if he went a little too heavy-handed on the gel.

“Is that Pop?” I ask Brynn, who is also staring at the guy.

Brynn turns to me, her eyes wide. “No. I have no idea who that guy is.”

We both turn back to him as he looks up. “Oh, good! You guys made it.”