The Seating Chart Error

The itinerary was perfect. It was laminated, it was color-coded (blue for travel, green for meals, red for competition), and it was currently being crushed in Felix’s sweating grip.

*10:00 PM: Depart Chicago Union Station.*

*10:15 PM: Review flashcards for the Negation Rebuttal.*

*11:00 PM: Scheduled sleep to maximize REM cycle.*

"Alright, listen up, mathletes and verbal-athletes," Mr. Harrison, the debate coach, bellowed over the hiss of the train’s air brakes. He stood in the aisle of the coach car, waving a clipboard. "I’ve made an executive decision. We’re mixing up the seating chart. Fresh perspectives! Synergy! I don't want you sitting with your usual cliques."

Felix felt his heart rate spike. This was a deviation. A significant statistical anomaly. He was supposed to sit in 14A alone, with his noise-canceling headphones and his anxiety.

"Felix," Mr. Harrison pointed a chunky finger at him. "You’re in 14A. Chloe, you take 14B."

Felix’s breath hitched.

Chloe.

She was currently struggling down the aisle, her oversized canvas tote bag knocking into every single headrest she passed. She was wearing a sweater that looked like it had been knitted by a colorblind person in the dark, and her hair was held up by a pencil and sheer willpower.

"Oops, sorry! Pardon me! My bad!" Chloe chirped as she navigated the narrow space.

She reached Row 14. She looked at Felix and grinned. It was a crooked, devastating grin that Felix had statistically analyzed and determined was the cause of 95% of his cognitive failures.

"Hey, Stat-Man," she said. "Looks like you’re stuck with me."

"It appears so," Felix squeaked. He cleared his throat. "I mean. Yes. The probability of this arrangement was low, but here we are."

Chloe dropped her bag onto the seat. It was heavy. It landed with a thud that suggested it contained rocks, or perhaps illegal contraband.

"Scootch," she said.

Felix pressed himself against the cold window of 14A. Chloe collapsed into 14B. She immediately began unpacking. Out came a bag of spicy chips, a sketchbook, a handful of glitter pens, and a neck pillow shaped like a corgi.

"I hope you didn't want to work," Chloe said, ripping open the chips. The smell of artificial jalapeño filled the cramped air. "Because I am feeling chatty, and this train ride is approximately a million hours long."

"Fourteen hours and twenty minutes," Felix corrected automatically. "Barring delays."

"Exactly. A million hours." She offered him a chip. It was neon red. "Chip?"

Felix looked at his laminated itinerary. *10:15 PM: Review flashcards.*

He looked at Chloe, whose eyes were bright and expectant.

"Okay," Felix whispered. He took the chip.

He was already off schedule.

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