“Yeah,” Tori says. She looks uncomfortable, and I don’t know what to do. Tori’s mom is paging through a magazine.

I mouth the words “Do you want to talk about this now?”

Tori’s eyes flit over to her mother and then back to me. She nods. “Yeah,” she says. “She knows.” It’s impossible to read her face. And she’s not giving us anything.

“Okay, so if I remember correctly,” I say, “we told you about Sawyer seeing a vision as a sort of aftereffect of the shooting. Right?”

Tori nods.

“Are you seeing a vision?” Sawyer asks.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“But you’re seeing something? Like, a reflection, or on TV, or in the windows?” Sawyer leans forward.

Mrs. Hayes looks up. “The doctor believes it’s a side effect of the drugs,” she says in a firm voice. “And I agree.”

“Mom, please.”

Sawyer sits back. “Well, um . . .” He looks at me, scrambling, not knowing what to say.

I don’t know what to say either. I wish Tori’s mom would go away so we could talk. But we’ve never seen Tori without her mother here. She never leaves. She even has a cot set up. I take a breath. “Um,” I say. “I—I—I think I need to give you some information that is going to sound really weird.” I bite my lip and glance at Sawyer.

He shrugs.

“You see,” I say, “it really started with me.” And I give her the entire story, even going into the part where Sawyer got his vision, and how we saved people because we prevented the shooting from being worse.

And that’s when Tori’s mom stops us. She stands up and says, “That’s enough.”

I swallow hard.

“My daughter has been through a tremendous amount of pain and stress. You are not making her any better with your crazy theories and your—your—making light of the fact that my daughter almost died. This isn’t a joke, and if you two really are seeing things, I think you should tell your parents and go to the doctor immediately so you can be treated.”

“Mom, I just . . . ,” Tori whispers, but then she gives up, like she knows it’s futile. She sinks into the pillows and puts her arm over her eyes.

We are motionless, absorbing the words. After a moment, Sawyer stands. He touches my shoulder. “Come on, Jules,” he says in a gentle voice. He turns to Tori’s mom. “We’re really sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Hayes.”

I get to my feet too. “Yes, we’re sorry. It was a mistake.” I look at Tori. “I apologize if we upset you.”

“You didn’t. It’s fine,” Tori says. She lifts her arm. “Mom . . . don’t.”

Mrs. Hayes ignores the plea and ushers us to the door. “There’s no need for you to visit again,” she says, as if she’s the decider of what we do.

I mask the panic in my eyes and nod. “All right.”

She closes the door behind us and we walk in silence to the elevator and out to Sawyer’s car.

“I totally blew it,” I say once Sawyer is navigating the streets once more, heading home. “Now what?” I lean back against the seat’s headrest.

“I don’t know. I’m pissed off. It’s not like we forced her to listen to us. She contacted you. And you gave her an opportunity to not talk about it because her mom was there, but she didn’t take it.”

“How are we going to figure this one out?”

“We’re not,” Sawyer says. He steps hard on the gas to merge onto the highway.

“But we have to!”

“It’s over, Jules. There’s nothing we can do. We’re not allowed to come back. She’s not going to talk to us. Not now. We don’t even have a hint of what this one’s about.”

I scrunch down in my seat and scowl. “I do not accept this.”

“Okay,” Sawyer says with a wry grin. “But there’s still nothing we can do. Your responsibility has ended. We are done.”

Funny how I don’t feel at all relieved.

Fifteen

I gaze through the car window as we get closer to Melrose Park. And then I text Tori: Can you at least tell me what happens in your vision? I promise I’ll leave you alone.

She doesn’t respond.

Sawyer and I meet up with Trey and Rowan at the library so we can get our homework done in relative peace, even though it’s a Friday night. I think we’re all tired of hanging out at Aunt Mary’s, and besides, I need something to read now that my books are all burned toast. And it’s there at the library that I get a response: I don’t know if I can stand this. It’s been going on since I woke up after the shooting.

“Guys, look.” I show the message to the others.

“What the heck,” Sawyer mutters. “I don’t get it.”

“It seems obvious,” Rowan says. “She can’t talk in front of her mom, so she can only tell you important things via text. Like when her mom is in the bathroom or asleep, probably.”

“But why would she make us go all the way over there if she wasn’t going to talk anyway?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know,” Rowan says. “Maybe she’s sneaky, and she thought she’d be able to get rid of her mom for a little bit, but it didn’t work.”

“Spoken like a pro,” Trey remarks.

Rowan sticks out her tongue at him.