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  She nodded. “How else was I going to keep an eye on the love life of my baby sister, huh?”

  “There isn’t a love life to keep an eye on.” I averted my gaze. “And only minutes separate us in age, Sasha.”

  “What? I thought you guys were practically at the Mr. and Mrs. Jameson stage.”

  “I might have my shower.” I stood.

  “Hang on—is this why you’ve been extra quiet the last couple of days? Trouble in Texting Land?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” My sister’s voice, and that of the television, seemed to irritate me, so I walked off to the bedroom. But even my own footsteps seemed irritating. And the sound of Mom’s casual chatter on the phone. And…

  “Here we go again,” said Savannah, rubbing her eyes as she joined me in the bedroom.

  “Oh, it’s not just me?” I had almost forgotten about our abilities; they seemed like old news in comparison to what else was going on right now.

  My other sisters entered. Talia held out her hands. “Let’s do this. I’m tired.” She yawned.

  We connected, and I let the bubbly sensation roll over me without effort, without a care for what might unfold. I too was tired, and wanted to sink under my covers and escape into a book. Except…

  “Aghhhh!”

  The scream. It was back. It woke me up and shook me to the core. It reminded me that there were greater things at stake here than just my teenage heart. We had this gift for a reason, and those reasons were still unfolding. Okay. I get it. I’m paying attention now. Who is screaming? Why? What are we supposed to do?

  The scream faded and a door slammed. I heard the rush of air against my ears. And a voice I’d thought—I’d hoped—I wouldn’t hear again.

  “You need to go. Now!”

  Audrey.

  Just great. So the smudging hadn’t really worked? I knew she might still be hanging around, albeit keeping the peace, but this…this wasn’t keeping the peace. She was telling me, or us, to go. Again.

  There were only two more days next week when I’d be at the Jamesons’ house, and then that’d be it. So Audrey’s interference must take place on either Monday or Thursday, unless for some reason I ever got invited back there at a later stage, which didn’t seem likely.

  I heard water sloshing. Paper crumpling. It reminded me of the vision we’d had ages ago.

  And then it was over. I was no longer tired. I was wired. My head had taken over from my heart and I was back in regular Serena mode.

  “Same thing I saw a while back,” said Savannah. “Paper tossed out. And letters, words, getting all jumbled on the page. Floating around. I saw what I think was Mom washing the dishes. And, sorry to say this, Serena, but I saw the old woman again. She was yelling.” Savvy sighed.

  “Yeah, I know. I heard it. Same old, same old. Oh well. We did our best.”

  “Similar vision for me too,” said Talia.

  “I could smell Mom’s dishwashing detergent.” Sasha’s nose wrinkled as though it had come alive with the sense of smell.

  “I tasted the cake or cupcakes again.” Tamara smiled. “Happy about that.”

  “I can see that,” said Savvy.

  I paced the room. “I wish I knew who that scream belongs to. It was really loud. And disturbing. As though the person were screaming for help, but at the same time knew it was futile. It was a death scream.”

  The room fell silent.

  “Should we talk to Mom?” I asked.

  “And say what?” said Sasha. “Mom, we heard a scream. Someone is probably going to die. We don’t know who or when or how. Have a good sleep, nighty-night!”

  I sighed, then nibbled my bottom lip. I could hear Mom’s chuckles in the other room. I loved hearing her sounds of happiness. We had to stay positive. We had to trust ourselves. We had to believe we could prevent this, whatever it was. The jigsaw puzzle just needed to be put together piece by piece. We needed to stay alert and aware, and follow our instincts.

  My sisters and I went into the kitchen and looked around for things to do. Talia sprayed the stove top with cleaner and wiped it down. Tamara spooned leftovers into a container and put it in the fridge.

  “So, what’s on over the next week for you girls? Not long till your project is due, right?” asked Mom. She’d finally finished her conversation.

  “Another week or so.”

  “And is yours going okay?” she asked Savannah.

  “Well, sorta. It won’t take much more time, but I’m not expecting an A or anything.” Savannah’s voice seemed quieter than usual, like she was in deep thought.

  “And what’s the latest with you, Sasha?”

  “Why so interested?”

  “I’m your mom. I like to know things about my children.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Any plans for the next week I should know about? Visitors, outings…dates?” She eyed each of us with a curious glance.

  “You want me to print out a detailed schedule?” I joked.

  “Might have to start doing that, so I can know in advance what’s going on in your lives.”

  “Is it really good to know things in advance, though?” Savannah spoke up, though her eyes were distant, like she wasn’t really speaking to anyone in particular. “If it makes you scared and uncertain? I mean, what about Dad? He knew in advance.”

  Mom placed a hand on the kitchen counter. “What do you mean?” Her voice faltered and her hand trembled.

  Oh no.

  Cat. Out of the bag. Thanks, Savvy.

  Tamara cleared her throat. And the high-pitched pop of the plastic container as she closed it on the leftovers sounded like an inappropriately joyous intrusion.

  Savannah’s face slowly morphed into realization at what she’d said. She ran a hand through her hair. “Um…”

  “Savvy,” Mom said, placing a hand on her arm and looking into her eyes.

  “Oh, man. Sorry.” She looked at me, then Talia, and released a deep breath. “Mom, we know about the letter.”

  Mom was still.

  “Dad’s letter. Sorry, but we snooped. That night of the, um…incident, when I was home alone. I wanted to have another look at your psychic stuff, but I noticed something peeking out from underneath. I couldn’t help but take a look, and when I saw Dad’s writing…”

  “You opened it.”

  “Actually, no. There was a knock at the door so I didn’t get to open the envelope. And then the thing at the school happened, and then…well, we didn’t open it until recently. All of us had a look.”

  “I see.” Mom moved back to the kitchen counter and gripped the edges, looking at the kitchen window, though the blinds were down. “I’m happy to show you my ‘psychic stuff,’ as you call it, any time. All you have to do is ask.” She turned around. “But you really should ask before looking at anything else.”

  Savannah stepped forward. “I know, I’m so sorry. Sometimes I’m so impulsive. But the letter, Mom. It looks to me like Dad knew his life was in danger. Do you have any idea how? Or why?”

  She shook her head rapidly and gripped the edge of the counter behind her. “No.”

  “But surely, if he knew, he would have been acting differently? Or maybe said something. Some little clue about what might have been going on?” she asked. Talia stood beside Savannah in alliance, her hands pulling impatiently on the hem of her shirt.

  “No, he didn’t say anything. He was busy, he was working hard. Sometimes he was a bit stressed, but he didn’t mention anything.” She leaned her lower back on the kitchen counter. “Oh, girls.” She shot us one of her comforting smiles. “I know it’s hard sometimes. Not knowing. But we’ve come so far. We’ve said our goodbyes, now that we know for sure he’s…” She straightened and adjusted her top. “Well, sometimes we have to leave behind what we don’t understand and move forward.”

  Savannah opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Mom filled the sink with soapy water and began washing dishes that had already been cleaned. She was keeping somet
hing from us, and she wasn’t going to tell us what it was.

  Chapter 24

  Four days later we were still in the dark. And I was still just friends with Damon. Though we didn’t even seem much like that anymore.

  Monday’s study session had been efficient, but stilted. Clinical. Do the work, go home. There’d been no chatting, no texting, no making moustaches and alien antennae with pipe cleaners. And certainly no kissing. On Thursday we’d be running through our presentation in one go, as though we were in front of the class. Hopefully by the end of it we’d be ready and confident enough with it to do a good job for real next week. Or as Lara had said, a perfect job. Errors would not be tolerated.

  And romance with brothers of friends would not be tolerated either.

  I hadn’t heard a peep from Audrey. Nothing at all. So I’d be on high alert on Thursday. I hadn’t shared this new information with Damon and Lara, though.

  I took my violin case from my locker and turned around, ready to walk to my teacher’s home studio. I was looking forward to escaping into the music, letting the notes take over my consciousness, erasing all worries, fear, and uncertainty from my mind. At least for an hour.

  “Serena.”

  I turned to the voice.

  Damon stood there holding his backpack strap over his shoulder. “I’m still counting on you.” He managed a small smile.

  “For what?”

  “For making me do my exercise.” He patted his stomach. “I need to do something before it’s too late.”

  “You don’t need my help. I’m sure you can go for a walk yourself. Or take Lara with you.” I turned away.

  “Serena, wait.”

  I turned back. How was he able to do that?

  “I’m sorry about what I said. After we, um…after it was clear that we were more than friends.” He scratched his cheek. “But Lara, she—”

  “I know, I know. She was getting all anxious and you needed to calm her down. But you made a promise to her, and now you have to keep it. And it’s okay, it doesn’t matter. I’m not one of those girls who’s going to curl up into a ball and cry like it’s the end of the world. I have other important things going on in my life too.”

  “I know you do. And I want to know all about them. I want to talk, or even just text, like we used to. I’ve really enjoyed the friendship we’ve developed.”

  Friendship. There it was, that word that had the potential to be both beautiful and ugly. Happy and sad. Hopeful and hopeless.

  The problem was, now that we’d crossed that boundary into more-than-friends land, even if it was just for a few minutes, there was no going back. How could you be just friends after that? The more time I spent with him, the harder it would be to keep my head straight. And I needed to keep my head straight.

  “We should just focus on finishing our project. As you said.” I went to walk off.

  “Doesn’t mean we can’t talk. How about I walk you home?”

  I raised my violin case. “I have a lesson to get to.”

  “Then I’ll walk with you. That way I get some exercise and I can be your dedicated, jovial bodyguard at the same time.” He smiled.

  I bit my lip, resisting the urge to smile too. No, Serena. Don’t slip back into that vulnerable space where emotions have final say.

  “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  “Oh yes, that’s right. Superhero. I forgot.” He whacked his forehead. “Then in that case, you’ll be my superhero diva bodyguard. In case I get into trouble while exercising. If something bad were to happen to me and you weren’t there, it’d be on your conscience for life. So you can’t deny my request now.”

  I exhaled. “Fair enough. But don’t expect me to be all chatty.”

  “I’ll talk the whole way. You don’t even need to nod or smile or pretend to be interested.”

  • • •

  By the time I’d arrived at my teacher’s house (after the Katy Perry song “Hot N Cold” had played on repeat in my mind’s jukebox), I’d learned all about Damon’s family history, the number of broken bones he’d had as a child (four), and the plots of all the books he’d read this year (twelve of them. Damn it, he loved books too?). I’d also discovered which dangerous chemicals certain compounds made when combined with others, which he’d probably spoken about because he knew I’d find it fascinating and want to discuss it further. But I stuck to my guns and kept quiet.

  “I have to go in now,” I said.

  “That was a short walk. I think I need some more exercise. Maybe we can continue our walk after your lesson?”

  “I’ll be here for an hour. You could just exercise on your own.”

  “Yes, but remember? What if something bad happens? I need my bodyguard.” He nudged me.

  “You’ll get bored. You won’t wait around.” I put one hand on my hip.

  “Watch me,” he replied.

  • • •

  I walked out at the end of my lesson preparing to walk home on my own, but he was sitting on the curb. He looked up at me and smiled. “Surprised?”

  I shrugged.

  “Well”—he got up and brushed dirt off the back of his pants—“time to get moving. How about we go the scenic route?”

  I shrugged again.

  “Then it’s settled.” He walked beside me, swinging his arms, his backpack on his back.

  Maybe if I humored him and let him have his way he’d let things be after this. He’d feel like he’d apologized enough, and we could get through this next week and a half without too much drama. The scenic route home was nice (apart from the cemetery on the way), and I could do with some ocean air, not to mention walking past my dad’s park bench near the cliff, where Mom had etched his initials into the wood. Maybe I’d get some insight there, something to help us find out what Mom was hiding.

  We walked up the hill past the end of the beach and along the curved path, Damon doing exaggerated arm exercises on the way to (his words) maximize his workout and make use of more muscle groups.

  I knew he was trying to make me laugh.

  It wasn’t working. At least not outwardly. I was laughing only on the inside.

  We passed the cemetery and he stopped his exercises, glancing toward the gray headstones watching over us and the horizon like still faces, frozen in the empty stare of death.

  “I’m sorry about your dad,” Damon said.

  “Thanks.” I saw the bench up ahead. “This is his seat, actually.”

  “His seat?”

  “Yeah. I’ll show you.” I stopped at the back of it and pointed out the engraving: D. D. “David Delcarta.”

  “I bet he was dedicated too,” Damon said.

  “One hundred percent.” I clamped my lips together. “David Dedicated Dad Delcarta.”

  We stood in silence for a moment, as the cool breeze washed over us and sent my ponytail flapping up and down against my back.

  I noticed Damon’s distant expression and said, “Your dad is dedicated too.”

  “One hundred percent,” he replied.

  “Like father, like son.”

  “Serena.” Damon sat us on the bench and turned to face me. “Our kiss. It wasn’t nothing. I’m really sorry. It just slipped out—I’m so used to looking out for Lara and doing whatever I need to do to prevent her having a meltdown, because believe me, what she was like that day was only the tip of the iceberg. I didn’t want you to have to witness anything worse. But I was so busy trying to comfort her that I didn’t stop to think how it would affect you.” He shook his head, then looked me in the eye. “No way was it nothing. It was the opposite of nothing.”

  My heart began to soften again. And I spoke, though I only realized this after the words had come to life. “It was the opposite of nothing for me too.”

  He smiled. “I’ve been thinking about all this. Mostly while you were in that violin lesson for sixty-three minutes.” He chuckled. “The thing is, I feel guilty if I’m happy. I feel guilty that I’m the one who didn’t inherit th
e disease. I feel like I need to sacrifice my own happiness for hers. I don’t want to be a reminder of what she’s missing out on or what she feels she won’t ever have.” His voice became croaky and he leaned forward on his elbows, looking out at the expanse of ocean.

  My hand found its way to his forearm. “I understand. But don’t forget, you also owe it to her to live the life you’ve got. Don’t waste the gift you’ve received.” He looked at me, a subtle redness in his eyes. “But I get it. I totally get where you’re coming from. And I think she’s incredibly lucky to have you for a brother.”

  “Thanks.” He took a deep breath and straightened up. “And you’re right. I need to make the most of my life. Like she would. Like she is trying to do.” He looked at me again, his gaze wandering softly over my face, in a similar way to how he’d looked at me right before he’d kissed me at his place.

  My heart began its drumroll again, but part of me tried to restrain it, hold it back from being opened like a door only to have that door slammed again.

  Maybe he felt it too, because he quickly diverted his gaze to the ocean. “I told Lara things would stay the same for now. She needs some stability after all the drama with the ghosts, on top of everything else she’s dealing with—the disease, Mandy. I can’t betray her trust. I think we should just get through our project and see where we’re at after that. Go from there. Maybe once she’s achieved her A—I mean, we’ve achieved our A”—he flashed a confident smile—“she’ll feel more settled and content. I’ll be able to talk to her about this.”

  My lips wanted to kiss him, my head wanted me to run away, my heart wanted me to agree. I chose to follow my heart. “I think you’re right.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” he said.

  “It’s just one of my many superhero powers,” I replied.

  “What about that?” He pointed to the violin case. “You any good?”