You get up the next day to your regular alarm and peek out the blinds. No SWAT teams staging in the yard. Parents off to work as usual. You turn on the news. Nothing about a teenager escaping a hit-and-run on a Baby Hitler yet.
You decide to play it cool and roll with it. You've always been an affable young man of the upper middle class after all. Probably things'll be fine.
You get dressed like normal, grab a Taco Pop from the fridge and head out the door. Your Jeep's in the driveway. Something about it stops you in your tracks and then you realize. It's completely clean and undamaged. No dents in the bumper, no baby blood on the windshield... no sign of an accident yesterday at all. You feel panic grip you by the throat. You take a minute to throw up behind a bush in the yard and then get back to acting like nothing is weird.
You get into first period just after the bell rings. Mrs. Albertson scowls at you as usual but returns to the chalkboard. Halfway through class, the PA system beeps.
"BOBBY TEENAGER TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE" squeals the loudspeaker's voice.