By the time Rowan returns with only one more possible match, it’s six forty-five. The waves are growing calmer, and we are heading in the opposite direction of where the ferry sinks. There’s no way we could get there now.

Everybody realizes it, but nobody says it. When Tori texts me, saying things are getting worse, I know it’s not because the tragedy is imminent.

Another ten agonizing minutes pass in silence.

“It’s not today,” I say finally. I close my eyes and let out a sigh, and then drop my head into my folded arms on the table, thinking of all the problems I just triggered by getting the day wrong. A missed school day, which we’ll have to do again once we figure out the right day. Another ticket home. And then another ferry ticket on the right day, if we can even figure out when that is . . . and then there’s the whole emotional mess of getting psyched up for this all over again.

“Jules is not impressed,” I say into my sweatshirt sleeves. “Not impressed at all.”

Forty

Everybody tries to tell me it’s not my fault, and they remind me they agreed with my assessment, but I feel terrible about it. I don’t even have any money on me to buy a ticket home—I figured I’d just lose it anyway in the ferry disaster.

Ben has his wallet, though, already zipped up tight with his cell phone in the waterproof pocket of his life vest inside his duffel bag, and he says he has enough money in his bank account to cover everybody’s tickets as long as we can pay him back this week.

The problem is, it’s really difficult to get a decent cell phone signal out in the middle of Lake Michigan, and every time he tries to buy tickets for the ten fifteen ferry back to Milwaukee, he gets the gray wheel of death. Finally he gives up.

“We’ll have to buy them at the terminal,” he says.

When we get to the terminal in Muskegon, it’s nine thirty local time, and once we disembark, there’s a line for tickets.

Finally it’s our turn.

“Two seats left,” the woman says. “I can’t give you five.”

We look at each other, mildly panicked, unsure what to do.

“I’ve got five seats available on the four forty-five ferry,” the woman says.

“Shall we take the two and then three of us go later?” Rowan asks.

“No,” Trey says. “We only have one car in Milwaukee, so whoever would take this ferry would just be stuck in Milwaukee waiting for the rest of us. Let’s all take the four forty-five.”

“Yeah, good thinking,” I say, relieved. “We’ll just have to call Mom and tell her we’re doing stuff after school today.”

Ben buys the tickets, and then we go into the restrooms to peel off our wet suits and redress in our sweats. I wish I’d brought other clothes, but that would have been senseless if things had gone the way I expected.

We all find bench seats in the terminal to curl up in and take naps, which should come easily after the night and morning we had, but I can’t sleep. I lie there, eyes open, wondering where I went wrong. I text a bit with Tori, who is starting to lose it. She can’t see her phone anymore to text, so her mother is doing it for her. After a few more messages, I step outside the terminal to call her.

Her mom answers and hands the phone to Tori.

“How bad is it?” I ask. “Tell me everything.”

“Jules,” she says softly, “it’s so bad now that I can feel the water rising up around me.”

Whoa. When we hang up, I check the weather forecast, and tomorrow looks to be a beautiful day. “Maybe it’s a freak storm over the lake,” I mumble to myself. “Or maybe I shouldn’t put so much stupid faith in spring weather forecasts, since they’re wrong half the time anyway.”

By afternoon everyone’s awake and starving, and nothing in the terminal looks appetizing. We decide to explore outside, and find a cool little hot dog shop nearby for a cheap lunch. Apparently we look old enough, or confident enough, not to be questioned about being there on a school day.

While we eat, we can hear thunder rolling in the distance. Sawyer takes a look out the window at the darkening skies and decides against finishing his second dog in case the ride to Milwaukee is rough.

Fat drops of rain hit the ground as we walk back to the terminal. We go over everything we know for the thousandth time, trying to figure out where we went wrong and what obvious clue we’re missing. I wish I could see the vision just a few times. It’s so frustrating having to rely on Tori to look for all the clues. What if she’s the one who is missing something? What if she doesn’t know what to look for? What if she misinterpreted something? All I know is that we’re either doing something very, very wrong, or this thing is happening tomorrow, or maybe the next day. Yet . . . we can’t keep riding this ferry forever, trying to figure it out.

• • •

Rowan calls Mom to let her know we’ll be home late tonight. And finally the afternoon ferry pulls in. We watch the stream of passengers get off, and then wearily we board the ferry for the two-and-a-half-hour ride to Milwaukee.

Sawyer takes his Dramamine before he feels sick this time, which should help him. He holds me close and I manage to fall asleep to the sound of driving rain hitting the windows. The rocking is almost soothing, since I know Sawyer won’t let me fall. I drift into a hard nap and dream about Tori sinking under murky waves.

When I hear Rowan saying my name, and I feel her tugging at my arm, I have to struggle to wake up, and I can’t remember where I am.