There are different types of pain. There’s the kind that comes from watching your dad with his head down at the dinner table, too sad to eat, and there’s the kind that comes from watching your best friend get thrown from his bike. Then there’s the kind of pain that comes from dozens of sharp branches jabbing through your skin.
It’s Lyle who hauls me from the bushes. Limping and wheezing, he drags me through the grass, the thorns still digging into my skin.
He lays me down, away from the house and near Axel. Then he collapses. Next to me, Axel groans but doesn’t move.
I stare up at the sky. My vision is blurry and the pain from the thorns and from my burned hand doesn’t let up, but for some reason I feel an overwhelming sense of relief. Then I remember.
We were supposed to die in the fire and we didn’t. We changed that.
I changed that.
“We got out,” I laugh and sob at the same time. “We escaped from the fire!”
“You saw it,” Lyle says.
My head feels heavy and, for a second, I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“You saw it,” Lyle repeats. “You saw the fire.”
My relief disappears.
“I should have told someone. I should have told you,” I try to say. I’m not sure if I say it loud enough. Lyle doesn’t respond.
The blue sky above me fills with smoke. Thick, black smoke. I let this happen, I think. I got us out of the fire, but I let it get this far.
“I tried,” I whisper.
The rasping noise next to me stops.
“Lyle?” I ask. I want to face him, but my body hurts too much.
Then the sweetest possible sound I could imagine cuts through the washed out noises around me—the sound of sirens. They are far away, but coming closer.
“We’re going to be okay,” I say to Lyle. He makes a gagging noise next to me. Then the world goes black.
Chapter Twenty
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES, I SEE A TUBE full of clear liquid attached to my left arm with a big Band-Aid. Instead of my black T-shirt, I’m wearing a baggy white hospital gown covered in spots the shape and color of lima beans. My arms are a map of bruises, scabs, and scratches. I breathe in. My lungs ache but the clean air fills them like it should. I’m in a bed next to a window. Walt is slumped in an uncomfortable looking chair at the end of my bed. When I attempt to sit up, his eyes fly open.
“Laney! Honey, you’re awake.” Ashes shake from his hair when he moves and his face is streaked with soot.
“You look terrible,” I tell him. My throat feels scratchy and my voice sounds hoarse.
“Yeah, well, you don’t look so hot yourself, kid,” he says, but he’s smiling.
I lift my hand to push the hair out of my eyes and notice that it is wrapped in gauze. The fire.
“Lyle!” I cry, kicking my legs to the side of the bed.
“Laney,” Walt says, standing up, “Don’t get up. You don’t need to get up. Lyle’s fine.”
“He’s okay?”
“He’s just down the hall. He’s being treated for smoke inhalation and some minor burns, just like you. He’s also got a sprained ankle and a broken nose, but he’ll be fine.”
“Is Axel . . . ?”
“He’s got burns on his leg and a pretty bad headache, but he’s going to be okay.”
I lay back and look out the window. I have a lot to ask Walt. But first I need to let him know what happened.
“Lyle didn’t get the broken nose from the fire. Axel did that to him. He’s been doing terrible things to him ever since Lyle moved here.”
I move over a bit so Walt can sit on the side of my narrow bed.
“I know,” Walt sighs. “Lyle explained the whole thing when he woke up. The police are talking to Axel’s dad now.”
“I should have told someone,” I say, my eyes filling with tears.
Walt rubs his forehead with his hand. “You all are safe now and that’s what’s important. It could have been worse. It could have been much, much worse.”
I close my eyes. What if Lyle had just told someone about what Axel was doing to him? What if I had just told someone? I kept thinking that I needed to protect Lyle when all I needed to do was tell someone the truth a long time ago. I think back to the day that Axel shoved Lyle off his bike and when Walt asked me about my drawing. If I had told Walt the truth then, the bullying would have stopped and the fire might never have happened. I am silent for a while, and then I whisper, “And Tabitha’s house?”
“Her house is . . . gone Laney.”
Part of me wants to cover my ears with my hands and bury myself under the covers, but questions keep bubbling up inside and I need to know the answers.
“What about Tabitha? Where will she live?”
“I talked to Tabitha on the phone and she won’t be coming back to Thornville. She’s going to stay with the friend she was visiting this week. Luckily her friend loves cats, too.”
“So the cats—”
“Most of them made it out with you guys. The shelter is holding them for her and she’ll be back to get them and take them away.”
I pick at the gauze on my hand.
“What about Frida?” I whisper, almost afraid to ask.
“I’ve got good news. Frida was on your bed when I got home yesterday. She missed the whole thing.”
As soon as he says it, I remember Frida balancing on the windowsill, her breath warm against the cool glass. Was that really just yesterday morning?
“I guess she’ll be going to the shelter, too.”
“Tabitha asked if you’d like to keep her and I told her I’m sure you would,” Walt says.
“Really? I can keep her?”
“Of course, Laney. It’s not a puppy, but I know you love that cat.”
“She’s better than a puppy!” I think about Frida, warm and purring, sleeping on my bed every night. Then I imagine walking to school and passing a pile of gray ashes in place of Tabitha’s purple home.
“I should have told someone,” I repeat, on the verge of tears again. Walt and the room around me begin to swirl.
“Shh, Laney. It’s okay. Don’t worry about that. You need to rest.”
A nurse comes in and before she reaches the bed, everything fades.
I wake up to a knock on the door. Walt is no longer sitting in the chair.
A nurse I don’t recognize pokes her head in the room.
“Axel would like to speak to you. I will be here the whole time. Is it alright if he comes in for a second?”
I close my eyes, hoping I’m only dreaming. When I open them, the nurse is still there, waiting.
“Fine,” I reply. “For a second.”
Axel limps in and sits on Walt’s chair. White gauze is wrapped around his head.
“Laney,” he says and my whole body stiffens.
“Where’s Walt?” I ask the nurse. “He should be here.”
“He went to get something at the cafeteria. He’ll be back in a minute. He hasn’t left your side except to eat.” I’m not sure what that means. How long have I been in the hospital? I can’t help but wonder if Axel’s dad has stayed with him this whole time, too.
The nurse stands in the doorway, talking softly with another aide.
“Why are you here?” I snap at Axel. He is the last person I want to see right now.
“I’m leaving so I just wanted to say, you know, bye.”
“Oh.”
“I’m leaving the hospital.”
“That’s good.”
“And I won’t be at school for a while.”
“How come?” When I try to sit up the room tilts, so I lean back against my pillow.
“I’m going to live with my aunt for the rest of the school year. Go to school in Denver. Some school for kids like me.” He forces a laugh.
“Oh.”
We’re both quiet for a minute. I pull at a thread on the gauze and Axel stares at the tiled floor.
“So, you can see the fu
ture, huh?”
I don’t respond. I don’t know if he’s mocking me because he believes me or because he doesn’t.
“It’s none of your business, Axel. I was just trying to get us out of the fire. The fire that you started.”
We stare at each other for a moment.
“I think it’s cool that you can see the future like that,” he says in a low voice. “I mean, I don’t really get it, but it is weird how you drew that picture of Lyle and the cat and all that. Maybe if I could’ve seen the future I wouldn’t have burned those stupid GI Joes on the bed up there and then I wouldn’t be moving to Denver.”
I don’t respond. It doesn’t seem to me like he’d need to see the future to figure that out. And he didn’t need to be able to see more than one second ahead to know that pushing Lyle off his bike or punching him in the face was going to hurt him.
“I guess,” I say. I want to yell at Axel for all the damage he’s done, but my throat aches and I don’t have the energy to squeak out more than a couple of words.
“Look,” he says. “You saved me. I owe you for that.” He stands up. There’s something different about him. Maybe it’s the bandage on his head or the way he’s clutching the back of the chair as if he’d crumble without its support, but he looks broken. Seeing him so weak, I feel worse. Telling someone about the bullying wouldn’t have only saved Lyle; it could have saved Axel, too.
“So, okay, I’ve gotta go,” he says.
“Wait.”
“What?” he asks after a minute.
I gesture out the window. “I see Jupiter. Do you see it?”
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“I see Pluto,” he says, and we both smile.
“Bye, Axel.”
“Bye, Laney.”
Axel follows the nurse out the door.
Shortly after, Walt steps back into the room. “Hey there,” he says. He’s carrying a coffee in one hand and a large plastic bag in the other.
“Hey.”
“You feel any better?”
“Maybe?” I say, coughing.
“You’ll get there, honey.” Walt sits on the side of my bed. “Look what I brought you.” He opens the bag and tilts it toward me. It’s full of dozens of cans of Play-Doh.
I fake a smile, but Walt’s thoughtfulness just makes me feel worse.
“If I had just told someone, none of this would have happened,” I say. Walt puts down the bag.
“Laney, we all make mistakes. But now you know. Something that serious, you need to tell an adult. Just, no more secrets, okay?” His expression changes when he realizes what he just said. Walt lets out a long sigh. Outside of my hospital room door, two doctors are talking. Their voices fade as they walk down the hallway.
Just a few days ago, Walt shoved the yellow note in his pocket to avoid talking about it with me. So much has happened since then that it’s hard for me to even think straight. But we need to talk about it now.
“I know about your secret,” I finally say.
“Listen, I want to talk to you about that. I should have told you about your mother. I know you found the note and—”
“How did you know?”
“I called you to check on you and you didn’t answer. I kept calling and finally came home. When I got there, I found the house was empty and I saw the drawer in my room—” Walt’s voice breaks. “I was just trying to protect you. I love you so much, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t ever mean for you to find out like this.”
Walt turns his back to me and clasps his head with his hands. It reminds me of that day on the stoop all those years ago.
“I remember when you found me,” I say. “I didn’t even know that you were my dad. I thought a stranger had left me, that you’d just found me . . .” I blink back tears and wipe my nose with the back of my hand.
“Laney, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me you thought that?” Walt stops and presses his lips together, breathing through his nose.
“I’ve always known you love me,” I say, and now we’re both crying. Walt gets up and grabs a tissue box from a table. We both blow our noses loudly at the same time and then can’t help but laugh. Walt’s smile disappears when he looks at my bandaged hand.
“Your mother, she knew this fire would happen. She was terrified of it. It’s why she left. She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d love you and then lose you. I didn’t believe her. I thought it was just an excuse for her to leave me, to leave you . . . but I couldn’t bear to tell you that she left for no reason either. And I was torn because I didn’t believe her, and yet part of me must have because I was always so scared about you getting near fire. So I told you that she had died. It made me so mad at her when I told you that, but then you never really asked much about her. And now . . . I guess she was right about the fire after all.”
“Not really,” I say. “She wasn’t really right. I’m here.”
“It’s true,” Walt says with a small smile. “She was wrong about what would happen to you in the fire.” He shakes his head. “It’s odd, though. She did have these visions sometimes . . .”
“I do, too,” I say quietly. “I saw the fire. That picture of Lyle I drew—”
“That scared me so much. It’s why I kept asking you about it.”
“It’s not the only thing I’ve seen. I’ve had other visions over the years. Usually when I meet someone for the first time, but not always. Sometimes it just happens when I touch someone.”
“I guess part of me always knew that, but I didn’t want it to be true,” Walt says. He pauses. “No more secrets?”
“No more secrets,” I say, and I mean it. Hiding my future flashes from Walt was a mistake I won’t make again.
“I love you, Laney.”
I still have a million questions about my mom, but for now I let them go.
“I love you, too,” I say.
Walt reaches over and squeezes my hand.
As soon as his hand touches mine, I close my eyes and find myself months into the future. I’m standing outside on a warm, breezy day, wearing a red dress and holding a bouquet of wildflowers—red columbines, wild lupines, and Indian paintbrushes tied with candy-red ribbon. Walt is standing next to me. His hair is clean of soot and, instead of his usual Carhartts and T-shirt, he’s wearing a coat and tie. He winks at me and grins. I smile back and then look around me. My tree house is to my far right. I am in my own backyard, but it’s been transformed. A white runner covered in red and white petals runs the length of our lawn, with chairs full of people seated on each side. At the end of the runner, Carmen, in a white sheath dress and sparkly silver shoes, stands arm in arm with her father. I know this scene. I’ve seen it before.
It’s the same mix of people from town that I saw in my future flash years ago. Except something’s different. Last time, I saw the people and the wedding, but it was more like I was watching a movie. I wasn’t standing there wearing my red dress and holding a bouquet. And in the front row to my right, a freckle-faced boy with wild red hair smiles up at me. He’s sitting next to a woman with pale red hair who is holding a striped gray cat on her lap. Lyle and his mom and Frida. They weren’t here the last time I saw this, either.
I open my eyes.
“I saw something,” I whisper to Walt. He pulls back to study my face. Then I see Carmen in the door behind him. She rushes over to me. I scoot over so that the three of us can sit squished together on the hospital bed.
“Oh, Laney, are you okay?” she asks me.
“I am.”
She and Walt both glance at each other and offer up small smiles.
“Thanks for calling,” I see Carmen mouth to Walt. He puts his hand over hers. She doesn’t pull away.
“Laney was about to tell me about something she saw—” Walt catches himself.
“I get these images of the future,” I explain to Carmen. “It’s hard to describe, but sometimes I can see what’s going to happen.” It’s funny
, the lightness I feel telling Carmen my secret, and I find that the secret that’s been bottled up inside of me for most of my life is suddenly easy to say out load.
Carmen raises both eyebrows.
“Well, what did you see?” she asks, without missing a beat.
“Yes,” Walt says. “What did you see?”
I hesitate. “It’s nothing,” I say. This is something they should find out for themselves.
Walt gives me a look. “I thought we said no more secrets.”
“This really isn’t a secret. It’s more of a surprise.”
Walt starts to protest and Carmen joins in.
“Let’s just say that I saw happiness,” I say, smiling.
Walt and Carmen stare at each other for a moment as if mulling over whether to let me off the hook. “Well, I think we could all use a little happiness in our future, don’t you think, Carmen?” Walt finally says, grinning.
“Of course,” Carmen says. They both lean down to hug me.
Outside my hospital window, I see a prairie hawk, just like the one I saw that day on the hill when Lyle was attacked on his bike. A lot has happened since that day—a lot that I regret. I wish I had told someone about Axel sooner. I wish I had told Walt about my future flashes. I wish I had talked to him about how I remembered him finding me on the stoop. I wish my mother hadn’t run away.
I look back at Carmen and Walt and decide to let all my regrets and wishes fly out the window and away with the wind. We’ve made mistakes, but I know now that it will all be okay. For the first time, I understand and appreciate the power of my gift. I can’t change the past, but I can change the future.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to all of my friends and family. I couldn’t have written this book without your love and support.
An extra huge thank-you to the following people:
• Melanie Gettier, for inspiring me to write about a girl who sees the future;
• Everyone in Eric Goodman’s Advanced Novel workshop at the University of Iowa;
• Laura Oliver, for encouraging me to keep writing;
• My early readers: Carl Helmetag, Hannah McDonald, and Mollie McDonald;
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