by Tia Mowry
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or burst into tears. What had happened back there? It went way beyond déjà vu. Because I knew exactly where I’d seen-felt-experienced that moment before.
But how? How could I possibly have seen something that hadn’t happened yet? For a second I thought about the other visions I’d had. Had any of them actually come true? I had no idea.
But this one had.
“No way,” I said, clenching my fists hard, my nails digging into my palms. “This so isn’t happening. . . .”
I sat there for a good fifteen minutes or so. My phone kept buzzing in my pocket, but I ignored it.
Finally, when it went off for the twentieth time, I yanked it out and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Cait: Where are you? We have to talk!
I wasn’t so sure. But I needed to talk to someone. We might not be BFFs anymore, but I’d always been able to trust her not to spill my secrets. Besides, she was almost as good as Mom at making me feel better when I was freaking out about something. And now? Yeah, I was definitely freaking out.
I texted back and she arrived minutes later, out of breath and wild-eyed. “Thank goodness!” she cried. “I didn’t know what happened to you. Why’d you run off like that?”
“Long story,” I said. “How’s Brayden?”
She grimaced and flopped down beside me. “They think his leg’s broken. The ambulance just got here. It’s taking him to the hospital over in Six Oaks. Everyone’s totally panicking since Brayden’s the quarterback and the home game against the Armadillos’ biggest rivals is next Saturday afternoon, and—”
“Cait. Chill,” I broke in, recognizing all the signs of a manic Caitlyn monologue. When my sister started talking all fast and excited like that, it was hard to get her to stop.
She blinked at me. “What? I was just saying—”
“I know,” I said. “But listen. You said we needed to talk. And you were right. Something weird has been happening.”
Suddenly her face went pale. “What do you mean, something weird?”
I peered at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she shot back.
I took a deep breath, not quite meeting her eye. “Fine. Lately, I’ve been . . . seeing things. Like, things that aren’t really there.”
Pausing, I waited for her to laugh. Look confused. Make fun of me.
But she’d gone completely still. She was staring at me, her eyes as wide as all of Texas.
“Things?” she said after a second. “Like, what kinds of things?”
I shrugged. “Mostly stupid stuff— Wait . . . ?” My own eyes widened, mirroring her, as I got a sudden twitch of that twintuition the two of us used to joke about. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Looking at you like what?”
I gasped. “Oh my gosh—it’s been happening to you, too!”
8
CAITLYN
MY HEAD WAS spinning. “So you’re getting them, too? The visions?”
“Hang on.” Cass held up a hand, and I could feel her putting her guard up. “I wouldn’t call them ‘visions’ exactly. It’s just that . . . I see weird stuff happening.”
My heart was pounding like the snare drum from the marching band. Why hadn’t it occurred to me that this could be happening to my twin, too? We’d started off as two halves of the same egg, after all. The two of us had been through everything together, from losing our first baby teeth within a week of each other to getting our tonsils out on the same day.
“So, does it happen when you touch someone?” I asked, leaning forward. “Because that’s what seems to trigger it—I mean, not every time I touch someone, obviously.” I laughed nervously, and it came out sounding excited and breathless. I hadn’t realized until that moment how good it would feel to confide in someone.
“Yeah, I guess.” Cassie shrugged. “Only once in a while, though; it’s happened four or five times, maybe. I can’t figure it out.”
“Same here. I thought my first vision was just a dream or something. I didn’t think it was real. Remember when I had the flu last March?”
As I explained, she nodded. “My first time was sort of random and short and confusing like that, too,” she said. “It was at the mall, and I thought I was just super hungry or something. . . .” We went on from there, trading stories of each subsequent vision, each longer, brighter, and more bizarre than the last.
“So, uh, has it happened to you since we moved to Aura?” I asked. I hadn’t told her yet about my vision of Megan that first day at the bake sale. To be honest, I was kind of afraid to admit to that one since it would take Cass, oh, about half a second to figure out that it was the reason everyone thought we were weird.
Especially if I told her I’d just seen that particular vision come true.
“Once,” she said. “First day of school, when I met Brayden. Nothing too exciting, it was pretty stupid.”
All her others had been so detailed—I knew Cassie loved to tell a story—but this time she stopped short. Why wasn’t she meeting my eye?
“Okay, then what did you see just now, when you took off like that? Did you have another one?”
“Not exactly.” She picked at a stray bit of grass sprouting out of the concrete. “This is going to sound crazy, okay?”
“Crazier than seeing visions?’
“Seriously, Cait. I think—I think I saw Brayden’s accident before it happened. Part of it anyway.”
She shot me a sidelong glance, as if expecting me to laugh it off. But I couldn’t breathe, and my whole body started shaking. My mind was filled with the image of Megan red-faced and screaming.
“So?” she said sharply. “Are you going to sit there like a dork, or are you going to tell me I’m nuts?”
“You’re not nuts,” I blurted out. “Or if you are, I guess I am, too. Because the same thing happened to me just now at the game!”
She blinked. “What? You had a vision about Brayden, too?”
“No.” I took a deep breath, knowing I had to tell her now. “Um, you know how Lavender and those girls have been acting like we have cooties?”
“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well, it’s because I sort of bumped into them the first day we got here,” I said. “Remember how you ran out of the house? Well, Mom sent me after you, and—”
“I knew that’s why I ran into you!” Cass exclaimed. “So what happened?”
I told her about the bake sale and the strudel and my bizarre vision of Megan. “So I was all freaked-out, because it looked like she was really scared or hurt or something,” I went on. “But when she was on top of the pyramid at halftime, yelling and red from the heat and stuff, it was like total déjà vu.” I shrugged. “What I’d seen was happening right there in front of me, but for real this time.”
“Wow.” Cassie took it all in. “This is totally wacked out. You realize that, right?”
“I guess.” I chewed my lower lip, trying to calm myself down. “But listen, it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.”
She made a face. “Yeah, right. Now we can get jobs as circus sideshow freaks any time we want.”
“No, for real!” My mind was starting to tick as I put it all together. “It’s kind of cool, actually. I mean, we can see the future! How amazing is that? Maybe we should write down all our visions so far, try to figure out how they work. Maybe more of them might have come true, and—”
“Cait. Stop.” Cass frowned. “Seriously. This is so not a cool little research project or fun party trick, okay? It’s weird with a capital W-E-I-R-D. Personally, I’m hoping it’s some odd side effect of, like, puberty or air pollution or something. In which case, maybe it’ll go away. Like, soon.”
“You can’t really believe that, can you? Because I don’t know about you, but my visions have been getting clearer and longer and more detailed each time. Like, at first I could hardly see what was going on, a
nd now I’m starting to get, you know, details and backgrounds and—”
“Whatever. I don’t want to think about it.” She climbed to her feet. “At least if it’s happening to both of us, I know it’s not just me going crazy.”
“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed. “How can you ignore something like this, especially after both of our visions just came true?” I jumped to my feet to face her. “Seriously, Cass—don’t you want to know more about how it works? I mean, if we can see the future, who knows, maybe we can change it, too!” My eyes widened as that thought really sank in. “Like, what if you could have warned Brayden about what you saw? He might have been able to avoid that broken leg!”
Cassie’s head snapped around.
“So it’s my fault Brayden’s leg is busted?” she cried. “Really nice, Cait. Thanks a whole freaking lot!”
“No! That’s not what I meant at all,” I said. “I just—”
“I know, I know. Trying to turn it to the bright side, as usual.” She grimaced. “Just give it a rest, okay, Susie Sunshine?”
“Okay. Still, we should probably figure out what to—”
“Another time.” She cut me off abruptly. “Right now, I think I’m over football for today. I’m out of here.”
“CAIT?” MOM STUCK her head into the hallway. “You almost finished with the hammer?”
“Uh-huh.” I tapped the nail I was pounding into the wall one last time and hung up a framed photo of our family. “It’s pretty stuffy in here. Can I take a break?”
“Sure.” She waved a hand toward the door. “Go outside. Get some fresh air. And while you’re out there, maybe you could pull a few weeds. I started the beds along the front walk, but they still need more help.”
I forced a smile, then headed for the front door. It was Saturday afternoon, and Mom had been working us hard to get the house in shape.
Outside, Cassie was fiddling with the broken hose faucet. She glanced at me when I stepped onto the stoop but didn’t say a word.
That was pretty much how it had been since our talk outside the stadium. But she’d never been that quick to adjust to new things. Maybe I just needed to give her a little more time.
After I spent half an hour pulling weeds, Mom let me take a real break. I went into the bedroom and pulled out my laptop. I’d been searching the web like crazy every chance I got, trying to find anyone else out there who’d had similar visions as me and Cassie. It wasn’t easy. There was a ton of information online about stuff like precognition and ESP, but when it came to the personal stories? Well, I don’t like to be mean, but a lot of the people posting their experiences seemed not quite right in the head, if you know what I mean.
I was reading an essay by a guy who claimed to have met his future baby in a dream when Cassie walked in. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Research.” I sat up and smiled at her. “Just trying to figure out if we’re the only wackos out there who can see the future.”
Sometimes humor can snap Cass out of a funk. Today? Not so much.
“Get over it, Caitlyn,” she snapped. “Whatever’s been happening to us, it has nothing to do with seeing the future. Because that’s impossible. Got it?”
Then she spun on her heel and stormed out of the room.
BY THE TIME I walked into school on Monday, I still hadn’t found out much more about the visions. It was times like these I wished I had a smartphone, so I could keep scrolling through the sites I found in between classes, but Mama said Cassie and I could get them when we were in high school. Until then, we were stuck with our boring old phones, but I figured I might be able to sneak in some computer time during study hall to look for information. I was sure if I could dig up something concrete, something that sounded legit, I could convince Cassie to take a look. Then maybe we’d know how to handle this new . . . power.
I was heading toward homeroom when I heard loud voices up ahead. Rounding the corner, I saw Liam outside the classroom facing Brent—the blond B Boy—and Lavender Adams. They stood side by side, blocking the doorway.
“Sorry, nerd,” Brent said, folding his muscular arms over his chest. “There’s a toll to get in now.”
“C’mon. Let me go past,” Liam said meekly, his head down.
Lavender giggled. “You heard Brent, Lame-o,” she said. “Pay up.”
“Yeah,” Brent said with a grin. “Either give us ten bucks now, or hand over your shoes.”
“Ew.” Lavender wrinkled her nose. “Why would we want Lame-o’s stinky shoes?”
Who knew what Brent would have said next, but by then I’d heard enough. Liam was my friend, and in my world friends didn’t let friends get picked on by bullies. Stomping over to stand beside Liam, I glared straight at Brent.
“What’s wrong with you, you jerk?” I said. My voice came out louder than I’d meant it to. “Nobody elected you two king and queen of homeroom. Let us through!”
Brent blinked, looking surprised. But Lavender kept scowling at me.
“Oh, don’t even tell me you’re in my face again,” she said. “Look, we already know you’re crazy—both you and your sister.”
“That’s right, we are. But I’d rather be crazy than be a big old bully like you any day.” I took a half step closer. “Better move, or I might sneeze some crazy all over you.”
A small crowd was gathering, drawn by the commotion. Gabe Campbell shoved his way to the front. “Watch out for that one,” he said with a sneer, pointing at me. “Her whole family’s super shady.”
“What?” I shot him an irritated look, still mostly focused on Lavender and Brent.
“You heard me.” His eyes narrowed. “You’d better watch yourself, or people in this town might start fighting fire with fire.”
“Shut up, Gabe,” Lavender snapped. “This so isn’t about you.”
Gabe shrugged. “That’s what you think,” he muttered, slinking past Brent into the classroom with one last scowl at me.
“So are you letting us through or not?” I said, taking a step closer to Lavender. “Because I think I feel that cray-cray sneeze coming on.”
A few people giggled at that, which got Lavender even more riled up.
“Stay away from me, you freak!” she shouted. “Come on, B. I’m over this.”
As she stalked inside, Brent shrugged and followed her. “Later, nerds,” he called back over his shoulder.
Liam just stood there, staring at the floor. “You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal.” His smile was shaky. “Let’s just go and sit down, okay?”
I nodded and followed him into class, glancing around the room to make sure there wouldn’t be any more trouble. Gabe had his head down and appeared to be fishing for something in his book bag. Brent was clowning around with Biff and Buzz, not noticing us.
But Lavender? She definitely noticed. Her eyes bored into me the whole way back to my seat, her stare so cold I almost shivered.
9
CASSIE
WHEN I SIGNED up for art as one of my electives, I thought it might be kind of fun.
That was my first mistake. Because just about anybody could end up in your elective classroom. And I got stuck with Megan. And Lavender. And two or three of their minions. That’s right, the whole stupid little clique.
The worst part? The art teacher, Mrs. Ortega, was at least a hundred years old, half-blind, and more than half-deaf. On my first day of art, she’d assigned us to draw a picture of our favorite food. Then she’d spent the rest of the period at her desk bent over a pile of papers, paying no attention at all to what we were doing. Friday’s class? Second verse, same as the first.
That Monday after the football game was my third art class. I was already in a bad mood when I arrived in the studio, as Mrs. Ortega called her classroom. There were two huge, battered old wooden tables with stools all around them.
Every seat at the first table was already taken, while Lavender, Megan, and the minions were parked at one end of
the otherwise deserted second table. Great.
I briefly considered dragging a stool over to the first table. But no—I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of scaring me off. Instead I dropped my bag at the opposite end and sat down.
“Who said you can sit with us?” Lavender called down the table with a smirk.
Megan rolled her eyes. “Don’t even talk to her,” she advised, without so much as glancing my way. “At least it’s this one and not her sister.”
For a second I was impressed she could tell Cait and me apart. We didn’t dress alike at all, and our hair was different, too. But that had never stopped people from mixing us up.
But then I became seriously annoyed. I could make fun of my sister, sure, but that didn’t mean anyone else could.
“What’s your problem with my sister anyway?” I demanded. “I mean, get over it already! She dropped some stupid pastry. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s not even about that anymore.” Lavender scowled. “Your twin is such a goody-goody! She’d better watch out, or she’s going to make some serious enemies at this school.”
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it. Why was I wasting my energy on these people? I focused on a little Zen chant I’d come up with over the weekend: Out of here, out of here, out of here . . .
Because I was more certain than ever that this living-in-Aura thing couldn’t last much longer. Mom had kept us busy all weekend—maybe a little too busy? Which had led to my latest theory that Mom was working so crazy hard on fixing up the house to take her mind off everything else.
It made perfect sense, right? I mean, she hadn’t said much about her new job so far, except that this was probably the last weekend she’d have off for a while. Maybe she was already hating the job, regretting this move, realizing she’d made a ginormous mistake. I wouldn’t be surprised at all. It might be hard for Cait and me to adjust to living here, but it couldn’t be easy for Mom either, right? I’d seen enough movies and TV shows about small towns to know how things usually went when a city mouse tried to fit in with the locals. When Mom ran out of home improvement projects to distract her, would she finally admit that this place was never going to feel like home—and start thinking about moving us back to San Antonio?