April 7, 2026

I hate Nasrin. I fucking hate her. I don’t care that my arrival was an accident, or that she’s trying (and so far, failing) to get me back home. I want my real friends back - the ones that indulge in trashy isekais and TADC instead of indulging in high school drama. I want the real me back - the one that gets good grades and has real university ambitions and is, pardon my French, what Jared calls a party pooper. I want my old life back, and I hate that I’m not home.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I yell at Nasrin.

“Listen,” Nasrin states, “You’re gonna be fine, kiddo.”

Ugh, I groan.

“The name’s Cheryl,” I snap. “And I’m 18.”

“Ah yes,” Nasrin retorts in another oddly cheery tone of voice, “the adult woman with a curfew. But sorry, Che-ryl.”

“I swear to God,” I start, “I’m gonna go to the dean about this. Or W5, I don’t know.”

Nasrin pulls back, wearily tensing her facial muscles.

“Actually…” Nasrin warns, “what about no?”

My face goes red - or at least, I think it does. I am furious.

“You got me here!” I retort. “Why would I owe you anything?”

“You’re right,” Nasrin admits. 

She fidgets her fingers, biting her tongue as they twitch. She then sits down to collect herself.

“But…” Nasrin elaborates, “You are a multiversal anomaly. You’re also probably the first person ever to hop from your universe to my universe. Do you really want to be the centre of attention if Waterloo or the news or the government find out?”

I gently pull back from Nasrin, who stands up again. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. I don’t want to be here. I’m not supposed to be here. But I’m stuck here anyways, and I gotta deal with it in the meantime. 

Media attention is the last thing I need right now.

April 8, 2026

Nasrin got my email address last night before I left. I didn’t give her my phone number, for obvious reasons, but I suspect I probably will someday if this escalates. For now, I just hope she repairs things before midterms roll around.

Today, I decided to blend in with my so-called friends more. I smile when they talk about Euphoria’s best moments, I laugh along as they recount their nighttime escapades with Jared and (alternate) me, and I give myself a makeover to smooth over my mild acne scars and dress with more frills. I even skip my afternoon co-op hours (which I apparently am supposed to use for a photo booth, despite the fact that I already collected hours last year as a teaching assistant) to hang out with Glen and Blossom outside of school. Blossom tells me that I’m a few days early for “Frills Friday,” but she is otherwise relieved that my fashion choices are back to “normal.” In addition, I learn that Barry is thankfully physically okay. Psychologically, though, appears to be another story.

I also learn more about Daisy Butler (who is probably this universe’s version of the graduate I saw on one of Oak Ridge High’s walls back home). She’s a versatile popstar who, despite her jazz singer voice and young age at 19, has run the genre roulette from Americana to confessional TikTok style tracks to even hyperpop. Because virtually all of her songs avoid clearly using male pronouns for love interests (if they even exist), there is a palpable subset of listeners - including my alternate universe friends here - who honest-to-God think she’s a secret lesbian who is using a straight romance with a guy named Marcus Santana to cover it up. While I will contend the few Instagram pictures of her and Marcus aren’t very romantic, with them never fully kissing and him having the dullest look when Daisy leans on him, jumping from that to “secret lesbian” when she literally calls herself an ally at most is weird and borderline creepy. Nonetheless, I avoid questioning my friends further.

Glen decides to take us to the park, where we end up hiding behind a few bushes. A dog barks in the distance when Blossom suddenly changes her tune.

“Hey, Cheryl,” Blossom starts, “How’s Operation: Markdown going?”

“...What’s that?” I wonder.

“You know,” Glen replies, “our plan to murder Daisy’s stupid PR boyfriend.”

I drop my purse out of shock.

“....You’re joking, right?” I respond.

Blossom clicks her tongue awkwardly.

“Girl,” Blossom snarks, “we’ve been planning this for months. I really hope you didn’t forget all about it.”

“Look,” I start, “I know Daisy has zero chemistry with Marcus, but, uhhhhhhh…murder? Do we really gotta?”

Bafflingly, Blossom facepalms.

“Oh come on,” Blossom sasses, “you know we gotta make Daisy realize somehow.”

“Yeah,” I awkwardly retort, “Of course we do! But what about spamming her profiles with gay dating sites? Or sending Marcus eye-roll emojis?”

Glen softens his look in slight sympathy. He then takes out a notebook and hands it to me.

“Here’s everything we’ve noted about this,” Glen states. “When we meet Arlo after school, I really hope you’ll at least remember what’s in here.”

“I’ll try,” I say, still unnerved.

…

They were not joking when they said they had a plan. You see, Arlo isn’t just any dumb crook plucked from the streets where cops normally find easy catches for arrests because they don’t hide their acts well. He is an Army vet - although, given the fact his 23rd birthday is today, he probably didn’t last very long there - as well as trained in both archery and javelin.

While he is Blossom’s maternal cousin, I can’t bring myself to see any sort of resemblance between him and Blossom beyond the fact both are White and blue-eyed. In the photo Blossom shows me on her phone, his hair is solidly brown and cut roundly short like that of an average Joe or John Doe, contrasting with his rather murderous tendencies.

Likewise, as it turns out - they do have a plan. Daisy came back to town for the filming of an experimental Christmas movie named Mistletoe Blue, where she portrays leading lady and college student Danielle. “Experimental” and “Christmas” are two words that probably don’t belong in the same sentence, but I digress. Marcus is co-starring with her as well -  as Danielle’s love interest, Terry, that is. That being said, Arlo is smart enough to avoid exploiting said set to finish Daisy’s boyfriend off, it being heavily guarded by security and employees for obvious reasons.

Anyways, Daisy’s also going to start her Gemrock concert tour in Toronto this Civic Day weekend - and in the Skydome, no less, despite her up-and-comer cult following status. This concert is where my friends come in. While he tries to sneak backstage to find the perfect place to aim for her boyfriend, Blossom and Glen are supposed to create a massive distraction in the crowd while I direct watchers towards it. The “how” of that is what we’re meeting up today with Arlo to figure out.

“So…” Arlo starts, turning towards my friends and I, “planned the fights yet?”

“Oh yeah!” Blossom replies, giddy. “Ok, so Glen and I are going to Daisy’s summer concert separately. We’ll get different seats in different sections, but they’ll have similar numbers! When I try to get into my seat, Glen will walk up to me saying it’s his. We’ll throw a bunch of things at each other and yell! Everyone’s gonna pay attention to us!”

“Alright,” Arlo responds, “be careful with getting physical. The cops might look harder if you go overboard.” 

“Don’t worry!” Blossom reassures him. “We know what we’re doing.”

Wow, really? I internally eye-roll. You definitely know what you’re doing. You definitely know where you’re going to end up if you actually pull this off.

Arlo glances at me, cheeks scrunched.

“What about you?” he asks me. 

“Well…” I trail off, “I’m gonna try to get everyone to take sides between Blossom and Glen. Like a reality show…”

Arlo pauses for a moment, clicking and clacking his feet.

“Ok,” he photographs the notebook, “I do have some faith in you. But please, don’t go too camp with this.”

“We won’t!” Blossom promises.

I am not convinced by my friend at all.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1647824270-the-daisy-theory-chapter-5)

(Tumblr version: https://www.tumblr.com/talesfromasnarkylisa/823789349550325760/the-daisy-theory-chapter-5?source=share)