The bounce house. The one he'hhd just landed in. It had been set up for the party. For the kids to play in.
All the rich brats had gone home hours ago, leaving the lawn littered with glitter cannons and half-eaten lobster rolls, and Brett and Anderson had decided the night still needed a grand finale.
Phei remembered it like it was happening again right now: the two of them grabbing him by the arms up on the second-floor balcony, laughing so hard they were crying, shoving him over the railing while he tried not to scream.
"Learn to fly, charity case!"
He'd landed in this exact same inflatable castle with a thud that knocked the air out of him, too stunned to even cry.
Then they'd sprinted off into the dark like the cowards they were.
And then the security guards had shown up.
Because of course Brett had phoned it in: "Yeah, the scholarship kid's trying to steal the sound system, officer, you better hurry."
They'd found a crystal champagne flute in Phei's pocket that he'd never seen before in his life.
Word had gone to his aunt and uncle. To the school. He'd been humiliated in front of everyone.
Harold had to come down in his silk pajamas and pretend to be disappointed while Melissa practically glowed with second-hand embarrassment.
Phei's stomach dropped all over again. This wasn't some random bounce house. This was the exact moment he'd gone back to.
The night everything got ten times worse before it finally pushed him off the roof.
Holy shite. Holy actual shite on a stick.
He was in a time loop. Or a do-over. Or whatever the web novels called it when the universe gave you a second swing at the piñata.
"Ahem."
The throat-clearing noise came from right behind him, dry and impatient.
Phei froze. Blood turned sleet in his veins.
He knew that voice. Jenkins. Big guy, ex-cop, loved his taser more than his own kids. And beside him would be Tony, stupid twitchy little weasel who followed Brett around like a puppy hoping treats.
Phei turned, slow, the bouncy floor wobble under his trainers.
There they were. Two silhouettes framed in the little vinyl doorway, hands already resting on belts, faces carved out of pure suspicion.
"Step out of there," Jenkins said, calm but loud, the way people talk when they've already decided you're guilty. "Nice and slow."
Phei's brain did that thing where it spun like a broken hamster wheel. He knew the script by heart.
They'd yank him out. "Find" the planted evidence.
Drag him across the lawn while the leftover party lights blinked like paparazzi flashes. Call Melissa and Harold.
Watch the whole family turn up to gawk at the trash they'd let sleep in their house.
He'd lived it once. He wasn't doing the encore.
"Yeah, I'm sure you got a call," Phei muttered, voice still scratchy from screaming on the way down six storeys. "Let me guess: blond kid, trust fund smile, told you I'm robbing the place?"
Tony blinked. Jenkins's eyebrow twitched, just a little, but it twitched.
Phei took one tiny, wobbly step forward on the bouncy floor. His legs felt like wet noodles, but the healing warmth from the system was still humming under his skin. He could think. Barely.
Think, you idiot. Change the script.
The worst possible idea arrived fully formed, gift-wrapped in pure panic.
Phei let his knees buckle. He dropped straight down into a dramatic crouch, hands shooting up like he was surrendering to a SWAT team.
"Whoa, whoa, easy!" he yelped, making his voice crack on purpose. "I—I wasn't stealing anything, I swear! Brett and Anderson, they pushed me off the balcony upstairs, I swear to God, they thought it'd be funny, check the cameras if you don't believe me!"
Jenkins hesitated. Tony look at his partner like a kid who'd just been told Santa might not be real.
Phei kept going, words tumbling over each other. "I've been lying here trying not to cry because my stomach hurts so bad and I didn't want anyone to see, please, I'm not a thief, I'm just the idiot who fell for their stupid prank again—"
He let his voice wobble, let his eyes go glassy. It wasn't even hard. He'd had years of practice looking small and pitiful.
The guards swapped a glance. The kind that said maybe this wasn't the slam-dunk call they'd expected.
Phei stayed crouched, heart hammering so loud he was scared they'd hear it, praying the system, the universe, whatever cosmic joker had thrown him back into this moment, had given him just enough rope to hang them with instead of himself.
Then he fell backward. It was time for his ass to save his ass!
And as he landed on the bouncy surface, he let out the loudest, most grotesque fart he could possibly muster.
PRRRRRRRRRT
The sound echo inside the vinyl chamber like trumpet announcing the apocalypse.
The guards froze.
Phei did n't stop there. He groaned loudly, clutching his stomach, and released another one.
BRRRAAAAP
"Oh god," he moan, making his voice as pitiful and disgusting as possible. "I think—I think something I ate—"
PFFFFFFFFFFT
He thrashed on the bounce house floor, one hand on his stomach, the other wave frantically at the guards.
"The shrimp! The shrimp at the buffet!" His voice cracked with manufactured agony. "I TOLD them it smelled weird! Oh god, oh god—"
PRRRT-PRRRT-PRRRT
A rapid-fire succession that would've made a machine gunproud.
Jenkins actually gagged, taking a step back. "Jesus Christ—"
"IT'S COMING OUT BOTH ENDS!" Phei wailed, now genuinely committed to the bit. He made retching sounds. "I can't—I can't control—"
BRRRRRAAAAAAAP
Tony had his hand over his nose and mouth. "Kid, you need to—"
"I'M TRYING!" Phei writh dramatically. "But every time I move—"
PFFFFFFT
"That's it," Jenkins said, back away from the bounce house entrance. "We're calling this in. Medical emergency."
"Should we—should we search him?" Tony asked, though he looked like he'd rather eat glass.
"Are you out of your bloody mind?" Jenkins snaps already pulling out his radio. "You want to pat down a kid who's shitting himself? Be my guest."
Phei let out another epic fart for good measure, accompanied by the most pathetic moan he could manage.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry! I'm so—" BRRRAP "—sorry!"
Tony shook his head firmly. "Hell no. Call his family. Tell them to pick him up. This is above our pay grade."
Through his fake agony, Phei felt a smile threatening to break through.
Who said you can't save your ass with your ass?
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: CONGRATULATION! HOST HAS SUCCESSFULLY DIVERTED TIMELINE EVENT!]
[SOCIAL HUMILIATION AVOIDED: +10 POINTS]
[CREATIVE PROBLEM SOLVING: +5 POINTS]
[CURRENT BALANCE: -85 POINTS]
[NOTE: HOST STILL OWES SYSTEM 85 POINTS. ALSO, THAT WAS DISGUSTING.]
Phei, still lying on the bounce house floor with the guards now a safe distance away, could n't help the laugh that bubbled through his fake groans.
"Worth it," he whispered.
PRRRT
Okay, that last one wasn't entirely fake. The adrenaline was doing weird things to his digestive system.
But as he lay there, listening to the guard's radio for someone to handle the "medical situation," Phei felt something he hadn't felt in years.
Hope.
Small, fragile, ridiculous hope born from fart jokes and time travel.
But hope nonetheless.
Stupid, smelly, ridiculous hope.
But it was his.