And the segment runs. “Say stop if you need me to,” I say.

“Can you even see it, or is it the vision?”

“No,” he says. “I can see it.” Sawyer stands there, coat still on, and watches. The reporter is talking about recent vandalism—graffiti painted around campus. The students are on spring break this week. She’s talking about having time to clean up before school is in session again. And then she says something about the beautiful campus’s botanical gardens and redbud trees that are just about to burst into bloom. The camera pans, and Sawyer leans forward, staring, straining as

if that’ll make the camera go where he wants it to go. “Stop,” he says.

I press pause.

“That’s it,” he says. He stares at it, taking it all in.

“This is it,” he says. “It’s one of those buildings for sure—

look at the ivy. These are the right kinds of trees. The

snow is almost gone.” He looks at me. “And the road.

You’re a genius. How did you know?”

“By your description. And because of the spring break

headline. Is there graffiti on the building in your vision?” “No. They must have it cleaned off by the time this

happens.” He rubs his eyes. “I can’t believe it. You figured

it out. I never thought we’d get it.” He turns to me and

pulls me into a hug, which feels superawkward here in my

house, but I’m not complaining.

Still, the risk is large and I pull away. “Let’s get you

out of here. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.” He nods and we’re snaking back down the steps when

the door at the bottom rattles and opens.

Twenty-Eight

Thankfully it’s Trey. He startles when he sees Sawyer in our house, but he recovers quickly and holds a hand up in warning. He turns to look behind him, and I can hear him talking to someone outside. Sawyer and I stand so still I don’t even think we’re breathing.

“Okay, good night, Tony,” Trey calls. He comes inside like nothing’s up, then presses his back against the door. “I’m going to murder you both,” he says.

Sawyer and I nod.

After a minute, Trey opens the door a crack and looks out. “Okay, get the hell out of here,” he says to Sawyer.

Without a word, Sawyer makes a break for it, and Trey scoots me up the stairs.

“What the—” he starts, and he’s so stunned he can’t even finish.

“I’ll show you,” I say. “Come on.”

He follows me and I show him everything. When he’s done watching it, he looks at me. “It’s not a high school.”

“Not a high school.”

“You figured it out by accidentally watching the news.”

I nod. “I do watch the news on occasion,” I say in my defense. “But I didn’t have much time back when I had a job.”

He laughs. “Oh, Jules . . . your job misses you.”

“Did Dad yell at you?”

“Of course. He also suggested that since I’m eighteen I might want to consider moving out and feeding my own mouth.”

“He—he did? He really said that?”

“Yes.”

My stomach twists. “Are you going to?”

“I—no, not this time. But if he doesn’t stop, I might.”

This scares the hell out of me. “But where would you go?”

He looks at me. “Aw. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” He punches me in the arm. “Do you think I’d leave you and Rowan here? Come on. Not until I go to college in the fall. And even then, I might have to commute.” He pinches and rubs his fingers together. “Money. Though now, I’m starting to rethink things again. I need to decide soon.”

He goes into his room, and all I can do is think, Don’t leave me here with them!

Later, Rowan comes in, and I can hear Mom moving around the kitchen. I’m not quite sure what will happen next, but Trey and Ro and I are all planning on going to the coffee shop to meet Sawyer like this morning. The three of us sit around my bedroom, talking quietly. And it occurs to me that the reason we’re so close is that the weirdness gene maybe skipped a generation, and we all get along because it’s the only way to survive.

Rowan tells us about her trip and gives us all of her flight information, Charlie’s address, his phone number, and his parents’ numbers too. And even though I feel kind of odd about letting her go and not telling Mom, I feel very good about where she is going to be after seeing Charlie and his mom and their non-hoardy, non-tense house. And besides, I couldn’t possibly stop her from going.

We hear Dad lumbering around and I make Trey stay in our room even though he’s falling asleep. I don’t want to face Dad. But he doesn’t come in. We hear their bedroom door close like it’s the door to a crypt, and we know he’s down for the count. Whether it’s just for the night, or for a few days, no one ever knows. But we think this latest problem will put him in the sack until Rowan leaves.

And then Mom knocks.

She looks at us all—Rowan on her bed, Trey on the foot of mine, and me on the floor in between, and she gets this melancholy look on her face. I think she’s going to say something, or yell at me, or tell me what my new punishment is, but all she does is stand there looking at us, like she didn’t realize we were all so grown-up. She massages her weary eyes. And then she says, “I am so glad you have each other.”