— Oh my God, oh my God, where am I, damn it, it’s so cold!
William was walking down an empty street in nothing but green swim trunks, shivering from the cold. Not surprising — the temperature was barely sixty degrees, the sky was overcast, and the wind whipped in all directions. He hugged himself and looked around, trying to spot at least one person, but it seemed the weather had chased everyone indoors.
He turned to the nearest house and groaned in despair. Not even a single light was on in the windows. William looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. At this rate, he might end up spending the night on the street—or worse, in a dumpster. Somewhere in the distance, dogs started barking, and William hunched his shoulders. He muttered curses toward the universe and kept walking down the street.
Yesterday, April thirtieth, he and Noah had finally decided to take on the legendary three-thousandth wave. And unlike his friend, William had actually done it. He would never forget how the massive wave, easily over twenty feet high, shimmered in the sunset. And more than that—the feeling of pure euphoria. William had been swimming and surfing since he was a kid and practically lived in the ocean once the water warmed up even a little.
But unfortunately, his crazy stunt turned into a total failure. He… fell. When William had almost made it out of the tunnel of the curling wave, he lost his balance. They shouldn’t have gone out into the ocean with a storm coming, but he couldn’t resist the temptation. An opportunity like that only came once a year. When he slipped off his board, he thought for sure he’d drown. The water slammed down over his head. But somehow, he got lucky—he woke up face down in the sand on the shore. No one around: no Noah, no board. Just his swim trunks had survived.
There was a legend in their town. From February first to April thirtieth, exactly three thousand big waves hit the shores of their island. And the last one was truly massive. So massive, only the boldest and most reckless would dare try to ride it. William believed he could be one of them. For years, he had watched that final wave crash onto the shore, knocking countless surfers off their boards.
And his very first attempt was a disaster. Now he was walking through some unknown city, in nothing but trunks, freezing and starving. He couldn’t risk running into the cops—otherwise, he might spend the rest of the day at the station. His grandpa would definitely kill him if he ever found out what he and Noah had done. And he still had to find out if his friend was okay. William remembered Noah’s board flipping almost immediately.
— Next time, I’m going in with floaties, — William grumbled, and a second later his face twisted with pain and regret. — Damn it, I lost my board too. God, if you’re listening, please let Noah have found my board on the beach. I’m begging you! I’ll never be able to afford a new one.
Just then, a raindrop landed on his nose. William looked up at the sky again and cursed the weather—only to be answered with a downpour. Now the wind was blowing him around and the rain was washing him off the road. His chances of finding a single living soul in this ghost town were approaching zero. That scared him almost as much as the coming night, since William had been wandering for nearly half an hour without seeing anyone.
Through the sheet of rain, he saw a silhouette. A guy, maybe half a head taller than him, standing with an umbrella near some dumpsters. He was wearing short green gym shorts and a black tank top. William looked at him and felt even colder. He would’ve gladly put on a fur coat at that point.
When the stranger turned into a narrow alley, it hit William—this was probably the first and only person he’d see on planet Earth today. He rushed after him, afraid to lose sight.
— Hey! Mister! Mister, please wait!
It probably looked really weird from the outside. Some guy yelling in the middle of the street, begging someone to stop. Not exactly the image he wanted—people might think he was a runaway hooker. Then again, if he were a hooker, he’d have already stolen a fur coat from his pimp. Especially if it were purple. William loved dressing in style.
Turning the corner, he crashed right into the stranger, who had probably heard his hysterical yelling and turned to see what the emergency was. William fell hard and groaned, landing on his butt. The rain blurred his vision, and he couldn’t make out the stranger’s face.
Then, suddenly, the rain stopped. William blinked and realized—no, the rain hadn’t stopped. Someone had just held an umbrella over him. The stranger was looking at him with a nervous smile.
— Sorry, but why are you running around town in your underwear? Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch a cold? — the green-eyed stranger tilted his head. — And where the heck did you come from with that hairstyle? I can’t remember the last time I saw anyone with a pompadour…
— These aren’t underwear, they’re swim trunks… I fell off my board while surfing. And what’s your problem with my hair? I’ve got a question for you: when did guys start dyeing their hair red? — William lifted his chin proudly—as much as one can while sitting in a puddle.
— Like, a hundred years ago, — the stranger scratched his cheek and awkwardly held out his hand. — I’m Max. Max King. Sorry for being rude, — he smiled and leaned closer, hand outstretched. — Come on, get up, or you’ll catch a cold. Everyone just stopped getting sick.
— Thanks. You’re forgiven, — the unlucky surfer joked with a smile, grabbing the offered hand. — I’m William Hall, and actually my pompadour’s completely ruined from the rain. Can I make a call from your place? I don’t even know what part of the city I’m in. My grandpa and friends are probably worried sick.
— And trust me, losing the pompadour was the best thing that could’ve happened to you, — Max smiled and nodded ahead. — Of course, I left my phone at home. It’s about a ten-minute walk.
— And why would you carry a phone with you anyway? — William gave Max a confused look, which seemed to surprise him. — Eh, whatever. Let’s go. I’m so cold I’d go anywhere right now. Even to a murderer’s house.
— I’m not a murderer, — Max clarified.
— All murderers say they’re not murderers. But don’t worry, I don’t care if you are. If there’s a towel and some tea in your house, I’m going. — William crossed his arms. — I’m very serious.

— I noticed, — Max laughed nervously.

They reached the small house faster than its owner had estimated. And it was William's fault, who kept hurrying Max, shivering in the cold with his lips turning blue. So when they stepped into the dark hallway, William nearly moaned out loud at the warmth.

Max pressed a finger to his lips and silently motioned for him to wait in place. A couple of minutes later, he returned with shorts, a T‑shirt, a hoodie, and a towel. He pointed William toward a door—probably the bathroom. William tip‑toed in that direction and, without turning on the light, wiped off and dried his hair. Emitting low grunts of relief, he changed clothes, wriggling out of his swim trunks. His hands disappeared into sleeves and his head into a hood. He stepped out of the bathroom and looked around, noticing light coming from the kitchen. He smelled not only tea but also food. His lips curved in anticipation and his stomach growled with hunger.

“Sorry for using your hospitality,” William whispered out of courtesy, stepping into the kitchen and immediately beginning to eat the sandwiches on the plate without asking.

Max watched him with a smile, leaning against the beige countertop in the small kitchen that had a corner sofa to match. He rested on the stove and tilted his head, making his red strands twitch with the sudden motion.

“Very tasty. What’s the recipe?” William asked with his mouth full.

“Just sausage and bread,” Max shared proudly, adding, “whole grain.”

“I knew it. Write it down for me later,” William continued whispering. “And this tea is for me too?”

“Yeah, all yours. I just had dinner,” Max teased, smirking at the strange guy. “So why are you whispering like a thief?”

“I’m not a thief,” William hurried to explain.

“Sure. All thieves say that,” Max shot back.

“You told me to be quiet when we came inside, so I am,” William reasoned.

“Oh, right—because there’s a ton of shoes and spoons in the hallway. One wrong move and you’d cause a disaster. I still haven’t sorted it out. And my neighbor Lucas can’t be trusted. His room is always perfect, but the hallway… we’re both to blame,” Max rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I live here with Lucas and my grandpa. Grandpa doesn’t hear well, so if we’re robbed he won’t find out until a court summons comes.”

“And where’s Lucas?” William prompted, sipping tea with his pinkie out like the Queen of England, wearing a blissful expression as if his wet swim trunks weren’t lying by his feet.

“He went out for a walk…” Max replied with a note of irony. “Here’s the phone. Call whoever you want. You can stay until someone comes for you. I’m up for company if they’re not thieves.”

“Me too—even if they’re murderers,” William retorted, staring at a black box on the table. “So this is your phone? I wouldn’t dare go into your cluttered corridor alone—sneakers are great, but not in thousands of pairs.”

“You think I’m an Adidas factory?” Max smirked and nudged the black box. “Here—this is the phone. What phone are you talking about?” He pressed his lips together and looked at William questioningly.

“This?” William picked up the unknown object between his thumb and index finger, twisted it in his hand, and when it lit up near his face he gasped and tossed it into the air.

He and Max scrambled to catch it, and eventually the phone fell onto William’s foot.

“Ouch, what is this thing?” the guest complained, rubbing his bruised foot.

“It’s an iPhone 12 I bought recently with my own money. If you break it, I might actually become a murderer! William, what was that!? Have you never seen an iPhone before? Should I call an ambulance? Did you hit your head while surfing? The main season’s almost over… Why did you go in during a storm?”

“Almost over?” William’s eyes popped like a frog’s under a truck. “It’s already over—it was April…”

“Okay, I’m calling the ambulance…”

“Max! I’m home!” A cheerful voice came from the hallway, followed by a crash, curses, and groans. “I’ll kill you! You promised to tidy up all your shoes before I got back! I was gone for six hours, damn it! Max King!”

“You’ve got like two minutes to escape before Lucas comes and stabs us both,” Max smiled nervously and bit his lip. “Alright, I was going to clean, I really was. Then I found you…”

“I’ve been asking you since two thousand ten to clean! Lady Gaga’s put out seven albums since then, and you still haven’t!”

Lucas entered the kitchen and looked at William.

“Who did you bring home? Why didn’t you offer him sandwiches? Max?! Where’s your hospitality?” Lucas continued shouting.

“I’ve known you since two thousand fourteen—why are you lying!?” Max started hitting Lucas with the towel, laughing. “He’s already eaten three! Don’t accuse me of not being hospitable! I’m even heating up pizza for him.”

“Then why is he looking whiter than chalk and staring like that… What’s his name?” Lucas asked.

“William,” Max said, stepping toward him. “William, you okay? You look really pale.”

“What do you mean two thousand fourteen?!” he shouted through the house and jumped to his feet.

Lucas and Max sat him back down in the chair.

“At that scream even your grandpa would wake up,” Lucas snickered. “What’s so surprising? I transferred to Max’s school seven years ago in two thousand fourteen. Seven years have passed, and now it’s two thousand twenty‑one. William, did you forget your pocket calendar at home?”

“I found it on the street in just swim trunks, in the rain…” Max whispered.

William stopped listening. He lifted his gaze and locked eyes on the calendar on the fridge. It really said: January 18, 2021. He also noticed all sorts of strange tech around them.

And Lucas was wearing skinny blue jeans, Max’s hair color looked weird… When he’d set out with Noah to conquer the three‑thousandth wave, everyone wore bell bottoms. William remembered it like it was yesterday when he walked up to a similar calendar and tore off its page: April 30. 1971

The microwave clicked, and William screamed through the entire house once again.