She’s gone. You don’t know why she’s gone, but she’s gone. Well, you do, actually. You know why she’s gone. But do you get it? No. Do you want to think about it? No. But will you think about it?

…Shit.

You’ve been staring at her portal for the last ten minutes, of course you’re going to think about it!

But just when you think despair is about to swallow you whole, you hear a familiar voice over your shoulder.

“Paul, what are you doing? We need to go to the nineties.”

“Ah, Alwin!” You exclaim, turning on your heel. “Yes, sorry, I was just… was just…”

Oh my God. Paul. Are you really crying in front of Alwin now?!

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you mutter, wiping the tears off your face. “It’s just… I’m just–”

“Is this because of Nancy?” Alwin asks, and you are surprised at how genuine the question sounds.

“Uh, yes?”

“Oh…” Alwin says. Then pauses. Thinks. “I never really liked her. Although, well…” he catches himself, perhaps afraid to hurt your feelings. “She was… satisfactory. Just satisfactory. And as an above-average man yourself, Paul, you should pay her no mind. The loss is all hers.”

“…Alwin, how the hell did you just become my best friend?”

“Wait, I did what?”

Your answer comes in the form of a bear hug. There are tears in your eyes again. Happy tears.

“C’mon man,” you say, patting Alwin on the back and heading towards your portal. “You’re going to love the nineties. We’ve got microwave ovens, and Friends, and democracy…”

Together, you step through the portal, arm in arm with your best friend.

SCENE 1

EXT. A street in New Jersey. Day.

PAUL!!! Pankowski walks up a hill to the University Library with the same vivacity as a lightning storm, hair dishevelled and coffee in hand. He checks his watch, and picks up the pace.

SCENE 2

INT. Library foyer. Day.

Paul breaks into the library much, much louder than any librarian should. From the main service desk, MARIA frowns. She is about Paul’s age, with short hair and freckles.

MARIA: [in an angry but hushed tone] Paul Pankowski, SHUSH! This is a library!

You would think Paul would look terrified, or at least embarrassed, at the angry woman looking at him from the desk. But instead, his whole body relaxes.

PAUL: Oh, thank God it’s you.

Audience laughs. He joins Maria at the desk, and her expression softens.

MARIA: You really need to work on your entrances.

PAUL: Yeah. Thanks for covering for me.

MARIA: Also why do you look like shit?

Audience laughs.

PAUL: [annoyed] Oh wow, thanks!

MARIA: Shush!

PAUL: [in a hushed tone, but equally annoyed] Thanks!

Audience laughs.

MARIA: Now spill. Was it that book you’re working on?

PAUL: …No.

MARIA: Then what?

Beat.

PAUL: [quietly, embarrassed] Alwin started a cult.

MARIA: What?!

PAUL: [loudly] Alwin started a cult!

MARIA: [gesturing for Paul to lower the volume] Paul what the fu–!

Then, suddenly, ALWIN emerges. It’s unclear where from. …Spooky?

ALWIN: No I didn’t.

MARIA: EEK!

ALWIN: Shush!

The audience laughs. Paul is in shock. Alwin looks at them both very seriously.

ALWIN: It’s not a cult. It’s a book club. I joined via the Internet.

PAUL: B-but you were all wearing robes.

ALWIN: They’re comfortable.

PAUL: And all the lights were off except for candles.

ALWIN: You know I don’t like this “electric light” nonsense.

PAUL: [patience running thin] You, you were there until four am!

ALWIN: It was a great book.

PAUL: One of them stole my car!

ALWIN: No they didn’t. I did.

The audience laughs at Paul’s stunned expression.

PAUL: You… drove here?

ALWIN: Of course. How else do you think I got here before you?

MARIA: But, Alwin… I thought you didn’t know how to drive…

The audience oooohs. Panic settles on Paul’s face.

PAUL: Please tell me you remembered to brake it.

ALWIN: You’re supposed to break it?

MARIA: Oh no.

Immediately, the sound of a crash and car sirens erupts outside the library.

ALWIN: [content] Ah, see Paul? There you have it; now it’s broken!

Maria and Paul look at each other, horrified. The audience laughs.

A well in South East Asia takes centre stage in this wildly imaginative YA debut by New Jersey-native Paul Pankowski. Featuring delectable worldbuilding and a large cast of neigh-implausible characters, it is a true miracle that this New York Times Bestseller does not feel bloated. But here we are! Protagonist Kanna and her best friend Heang propel the plot forward at a staggering pace, and magical-plant-knight duo Sires Plant and Ser Sed bring a much-appreciated comedic edge to the work. The novel’s nuanced environmentalist message and emphasis on the transmission of knowledge is also worthy of praise.

Quickly becoming a worldwide classic with a large Asian following, I suppose my only criticism of Kanna and the Legend of Besa would be: Why does Indonesia have to be so far away?! My children are begging me to go look for the Well! Alas, give it a few more years, and a thousand of these reviews, and maybe one day I will be able to afford it on a freelance reviewer’s salary. But until then, do pick up a copy of Kanna and The Legend of Besa at your nearest bookstore! It is a rockin’ and rolling blast.

Alicia Goodman for Reader’s Digest

It happens at night. You’re driving back home in your newly-repaired Ford Fiesta, just after dropping Maria off. After months of pining, the two of you just went on your first date… and it went well. Really well, actually. You haven’t felt this excited about someone in years – not since Rachel, not since…

Damn, it really feels like a lifetime ago.

Casually, almost without realising it, you tune into your local rock radio station. Just to unwind, really. It’s been years since you really listened for anything there.

But right when you stop looking, she appears.

Her voice sounds older, but it’s still recognisable. Immediately recognisable, even. She is singing a soft ballad about a man, perhaps a lover, who never replied to one of her letters.

I know you must be bitter,

But I did what I had to do.

Now and then I’m not a quitter

So, I hope my words do find you.

For a moment, it hurts. Or you expect it to hurt, anyway. Her voice in your new reality, a reminder of something so hard. So heartbreaking. But… it doesn’t. Instead, it feels more nostalgic than painful, like looking at an old photo. Or playing an old record, you muse.

You turn off the radio before the station’s DJ can come in to send off the song. You already know who’s playing. And besides, you’d rather just sit with yourself for a while. Memories your day-to-day life had relegated to the very back of your mind are now rushing back to its forefront: fire traps in sand-laden hallways, dates in mist-covered corridors, Waffle…

And man, that track is a bit of an earworm:

I know you must be bitter,

But I did what I had to do…

“I was,” you whisper. “But I get it now.” Then, in your head: [I get it now.]

…And to be fair, it’s a pretty good song. Maybe you can catch her on tour sometime. Maybe, you can even bring Maria.