Ben’s face is strained. He looks from one of us to the next. “This isn’t funny,” he says. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” I say. “I promise we wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

Ben glances at Trey again, like he trusts him more than us.

Trey nods.

Ben turns to Sawyer and studies him for a moment more. “Piles of bodies?”

Sawyer meets his gaze. “Yes.”

Ben stands up and paces in the tiny space. He stops. “Me?” he asks, stabbing his thumb into his chest. “My body?” His voice wavers.

Sawyer drops his gaze to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

Three

Trey interrupts the silence. “So you’re not having any visions, then?”

At first Ben doesn’t appear to hear him, but then, after a moment, he looks at Trey and shakes his head. “What? No. I’m sorry.”

Trey leans back and lets out a sigh of relief. “Don’t be sorry. This is a good thing.”

I catch Sawyer’s eye. He looks relieved, but I’m even more stressed, because if it’s not Ben, that means we have to keep looking. “Ben,” I say, “here’s the thing. Just like I passed the vision to Sawyer, I’m worried that Sawyer might have passed the—the curse of the vision on to somebody else.” I frown, thinking “curse” sounds too whackjob, but I can’t think of a better word. “Like, maybe somebody else who was in that room is now infected, or whatever, and they’re seeing a vision of something else—the next tragedy. So . . . um . . . I need to find out. So we can help them.”

“We need to find out,” Sawyer says.

Ben looks at us like we’re speaking a foreign language.

“So,” I continue, “can you remember everyone who was in the room at the time of the shooting? Do you know them all?”

Ben’s face clears slightly, like he’s beginning to understand what I’m asking. “I—I know most of them,” he murmurs. “Some just by face—it was a combined event with the Motet Choir.”

“Can you, like, I don’t know—find out everyone’s names?” Ugh. I hate this.

Ben bristles. “Okay, this is really getting weird. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, it’s pretty strange, what you’re asking.”

“I know.”

“And even the people who haven’t left school over it are still pretty shaken up, you know. It’s only been a week.”

“Totally, totally—so are we,” Sawyer says, nodding emphatically. “And, well, if one of them is having a vision of the next disaster waiting to happen, they will definitely stay shaken up, because the visions are—well, they’re just horrible, Ben. So yeah, anybody with the vision will stay very shaken up, until either they go insane or they die trying to save the next victims.” Sawyer adjusts his jacket like he’s getting defensive, ready to argue. Just the other night he said he wasn’t going to help me with this. Now he’s totally invested. I heart that guy.

Ben leans back and sighs. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “This is so insane.”

I give Trey a pleading look.

Trey sits up. “Please,” he says, his voice soft and earnest. “We all know how weird this sounds. We just—we don’t really have any other choice, you know? We feel like we can’t let somebody struggle with this thing alone.”

Ben absently starts to clean his glasses with his shirt. “Why don’t you call the police or something?”

Trey, Sawyer, and I all wilt. We’ve been over this before, having vetted this option time and time again. “Because,” I begin, but Ben stops me.

“No, it’s okay,” he says. “I get it. They’d think you’re nuts.” He frowns as if he’s still considering that point himself, and puts his glasses back on.

I close my lips and press them into a defeated half smile, and just look at him, waiting.

Finally he shakes his head. “All right. Fine.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as Ben gets up and goes to the clean desk, muttering, “This is so weird,” and pulls a few newspaper articles from the desk drawer. He brings them back to us. “We can start here.”

Four

From the newspaper articles we glean nine names of students who were actually in the room at the time of the shooting. Ben jots down several more, and then he stops. “This is crazy,” he mutters, and looks up. “How do you plan to explain this vision thing to everybody without looking totally nutballs?”

“Very carefully,” I say. I actually haven’t figured it out yet. “I mean, I know I can’t go around asking them all if they’re having visions. But I was thinking . . .” I pause as an idea forms. Blindly, I go with it. “I was thinking that maybe we could call a sort of support group meeting for the victims to all get together and talk. And see if anything comes out of it.” I glance sideways at Sawyer, who nods.

Ben tilts his head. “That’s not a bad idea. We did a candlelight vigil thing outside the building a few nights ago for the whole campus, and there have been counselors around all week, but maybe I should organize a group with just the victims . . .” He looks at his phone, checking the time. “Actually, tonight would be good, since it’s been a week. Kind of like a bad anniversary.” He taps his finger to his lips. “I can get contact info for everybody. Can you guys be here at eight?”