“Yick. Don’t be disgusting. I thought you guys were asleep,” I say, pushing the sleeping bag off me. My hands are sweating and I’m suddenly nervous about what to say to Tori next. I just need to keep it cool. “One sec,” I say, and then I type: Oh hey Tori. Sorry, didn’t have you in my phone. Can Sawyer and I come see you tomorrow after school?

Tori’s response is quick: I’ll be here. Like always.

I look up and explain in a whisper, “It’s Tori. She wants to talk about the visions.”

Trey’s attitude changes fast. “Oh, wow,” he says. “For real?”

“Which one is Tori?” Rowan asks.

“The one still in the hospital,” I say. “She got shot in the stomach.”

“You were right,” Trey muses. “Sawyer passed it on.”

I smile grimly. “Looks that way.”

Rowan screws up her face. “How’s a girl in the hospital supposed to help you figure out the tragedy? She can’t even get out of bed.”

I shrug. “All she needs to do is tell us what’s going on in her vision. We can figure out the rest. It’s not her problem. It’s ours.”

Rowan and Trey exchange looks, but they don’t disagree—this is their problem too. Just because I was the one who apparently took it from Dad doesn’t mean we’re not all responsible. Me more than them, maybe, because I’m the one who passed it on, but Dad is their dad too. They’ve got the same crazy genes.

Rowan nods. “I’m helping this time,” she says. “Besides, I don’t have anything else to do now.”

Trey frowns. “I suppose, but you’d better freaking listen to us. This isn’t a joke, Ro.”

“I know, sheesh. Don’t you think I’ve figured that out after all the times I visit you guys in the hospital?”

“She has a point,” I say.

Trey shrugs. “And we could use her since Tori isn’t able to help.”

We’re quiet for a minute as I text Sawyer, letting him know what’s up.

“I wonder what her vision is,” Trey whispers, just as we hear the breezeway door open and Dad’s footsteps in the kitchen.

“Me too,” I say. An involuntary shiver races up my spine as I try to force my brain to stop thinking so I can sleep.

That never works, you know.

Fourteen

After school on Friday, as I wait for Sawyer so we can visit Tori, my psych teacher, Mr. Polselli, comes up to my locker. He hands me an envelope.

“This is from the teachers,” he says. “For your family.” He shrugs and smiles, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. He’s like the under-the-radar teacher of the year. To me, at least. I don’t know why he likes me, but it’s been pretty awesome having him on my side. Maybe with all his psychological knowledge he can tell I’m batshit crazy and he feels sorry for me.

“Thanks.” I take the envelope and realize it’s too dense to be a letter. It’s thick. I look up at him as he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns back toward his classroom across the hall.

I slip my thumb under the flap and peek inside. It’s money. “Hey!” I say.

He looks back over his shoulder.

“This is money,” I say, flustered. We’re not charity types.

“Very good,” he says with a grin.

“I can’t—you don’t need to do this.” I hold the envelope out.

He stops walking. “Julia, I think you know why you have to take it.”

I think hard. Is this a psych question? A life lesson based on book facts? I figure it is. He’s that kind of teacher.

“Because it makes you guys feel better?” I guess. And I know it’s something like that. “You felt helpless to fix the real problem—i.e., make our house and restaurant not burn down—so . . . you do what you are capable of doing to help us and appease your inner . . . whatever?”

“Close enough,” Mr. Polselli says. “An A for the day.” He slips back into his classroom, leaving me standing there, kind of in shock, when Sawyer finally comes.

• • •

We decide that it’s best not to have Trey with us when we visit Tori since he acted like a crazed madman the last time Tori and her mom saw us. And they don’t know Rowan, so we leave her home as well to help Mom and Dad search for an apartment for us. Sawyer and I make the familiar trek up to Tori’s room.

“Hey,” I say, lightly knocking on the open door. I poke my head in.

“Come in,” Tori says, her voice listless.

Tori’s mom frowns when she sees us, like she’s not expecting us. I glance at Sawyer.

“We’re really sorry about what happened last time we were here, Mrs. Hayes,” Sawyer says, looking at Tori’s mom. “Trey—Jules’s brother—had just run here all the way from campus to let us know that there was a fire at their restaurant.”

“Oh dear,” Tori’s mom says, her face softening immediately. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine,” I say. I don’t want them to have to pity us too—they have enough to worry about. “But yeah, I’m sorry for the way Trey came screaming in here, scaring everybody.”

“It’s understandable,” Tori’s mom says, and Tori nods.

Sawyer and I pull chairs to the side of the bed, across from Tori’s mom. We sit, and I give Tori a reassuring smile. But I’m worried. Will she talk in front of her mom? Does her mom know why we’re here? We talk for a minute about how Tori is doing with her slow road to recovery. And then, after we run out of small talk topics, I say, “So, I got your text.”