Inevitable (24 page)

I
didn't sleep well that night. I checked my phone a dozen times to see if I'd missed any calls. I kept thinking I must've accidentally turned it to silent. But no, no calls. Not from Dana. And not from Aaron, whose number I'd forgotten to retrieve from Dana.

As soon as I got to school, I looked for Aaron. I debated in my mind how to play this. Should I stand by his locker and act like nothing had happened? Write him a note and apologize?

I spotted him before first hour, going the opposite direction as me. I smiled and waved, but he didn’t see me. “Aaron!” I called.

He glanced my direction, then checked his watch and walked away. My smile dropped from my face. Had he seen me? Surely not. I stood there as students crashed into me, oblivious to the tardy bell. Then I shook it off. I’d talk to him in fourth hour, tell him what happened at work. No need to mention deleting his number.

I saw him again in the hallway in front of me before English, too far away to call out to. Aaron didn’t stop to joke or act macho with the football jocks in the hallway. He didn’t saunter like the other rich kids, but there was a definite classy air about him. He held his head high and walked with a straight back, much the way I imagined someone at a prep school would do. His hair was neatly combed, white shirt pressed under the navy sweater. He was so past the high school stage.

I quickened my pace and entered just behind him, breathless. I assessed the seating arrangements. Aaron wasn’t sitting by Poppy, at least. He sat at the table I’d sat at yesterday, just behind her. Poppy had her back to him and was gaily chatting with a blond bimbo who giggled at everything she said. She hadn’t noticed Aaron, but I knew that wouldn’t last long.

I started for the seat next to Aaron before noticing the backpack occupying it. I faltered. Was he saving it or blocking it?

The bell rang and Ms. Siegfried closed the door. “Jayne, please find a seat.”

Find a seat. My ears burned and I swiveled around. Shouldn’t be so hard, right?

The seat next to Poppy was empty.

I dropped into the chair beside her, resisting the urge to fan my face. Poppy stopped talking and gawked at me. I kept my eyes forward, pulling out my notebook and “Othello.”

Why did things have to be so awkward? Why couldn’t I just act casual and normal, grin at Aaron and say, “Mind if I sit here?” Giggle flirtatiously and move his bag?

Instead I felt so confused. I didn’t know where I stood. Never mind that he kissed me yesterday. I didn’t have the confidence of a girlfriend. What were we?

I tensed as the end of class neared, my heart rate increasing at the prospect of Aaron coming over to talk to me.
Talk to him first, Jayne
, I told myself. I swiveled in my chair, ready with my smile, just as Aaron gathered up his books and walked out.

I stopped breathing. He just walked away. That was it. The disappointment was poignant. It stabbed my gut like a sharp, twisted knife.

“Did you guys, like, fight or something?” Poppy was frowning at me, tapping a pencil on the desk.

“Oh, No.” I exhaled, trying to play it cool. “We’re just giving each other space.”

“Oh.” Poppy smiled brightly. “Isn’t that nice?” Getting up, she flounced away.

There were still a few people in the room, but I felt very, very alone.



Dana’s reception hadn’t been warm the day before, but I didn’t know who else to talk to. I didn’t really have any other friends; I didn’t have time for anyone except Dana. She was kind of a full-time job.

Dana was out in the yard playing baseball with her little brother, Zach. She wore beige capris that tied at her calves, and her curly blond hair was pulled through a baseball cap. She stopped playing and watched me pull into the drive.

I licked my lips. Maybe this was a bad idea. I grabbed my chapstick from the dash and swiped it over my mouth. It was slightly melted and came off in clumps. I stepped out of the car and moved toward her. “Hi, Dana.”

Dana handed the ball to Zach. “Game’s over, kid.”

“Hi, Zach,” I called out.

“Hey, Jayne,” he replied, already moving off, tossing the ball in the air to himself.

Dana folded her arms across her chest and walked over to me. The color was back in her face, though her lips were pressed into a stern line.

“You missed school again,” I said, not sure where to start.

“I know.”

“So.” I pushed a hand through my wild hair. “You’re still mad at me. Though to be honest, I’m not really sure why.”

She sighed and dropped her arms. “I don’t even know where to begin, Jayne. It’s like I don’t even know you.” She turned around and walked back toward the house.

I followed her to the porch, where we both sat on the concrete steps. Where was this coming from? What exactly had I done to make her so mad? Was it because I had called her father? “What’s this about, Dana? Is it about the bonfire?”

She picked up a quartz rock and smoothed her fingers over it. “Not really. I guess.” She blinked and met my eyes, light-blue and unwavering. “What are you playing at?”

“Playing at?” My palms were sweaty with anxiety.

Dana dropped the rock with a clink. “Aaron called me yesterday.”

“Aaron?” I echoed, my mind spinning fast to put the pieces together. Had he told her he’d kissed me? Was she upset about finding out from him? It wasn’t like Dana to be so dramatic, but I didn’t know what else to think. “Listen, Dana, I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” she interrupted. “Either you fed him a bunch of BS, or you’ve been holding out on me since—well, for as long as I’ve known you!”

Now I was really confused. “I’m lost.”

She sighed again. “Aaron spouted off a bunch of nonsense about how you’re acting weird, and he wanted to know if it had anything to do with the fact that you’re
psychic
.” She glowered at me. “Obviously he thought I would know, since I’m your
best friend
. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to laugh or play along. So I just told the freaking truth—that I didn’t really know. And then I hung up.” She leaned back on her elbows. “So, Jayne. What’s going on? If you’re just trying to scare Aaron off, I’m sure there’s an easier way to do it.”

This was more complicated than I’d imagined. I took a deep breath. “Well... Aaron’s right. Sort of. Sometimes I can see the future.”

Dana crossed her arms and stared at me.

The words flew out of my mouth, certain that my window of explanation was closing. “I saw it that night at the bonfire. I saw you getting in the car with that idiot and him dying in an accident. That’s why I was so adamant about you leaving with me.”

Her expression softened, but she didn’t drop her arms. “Keep talking.”

What more was there to say? “It’s been happening for years. But it’s not fun. I always see when people die. I hate it. It makes me want to hide in my room and never look at another person again.”

Dana unfolded her arms and leaned against the white pillar. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

I exhaled, so relieved she hadn’t laughed at me. Or worse, told me I needed help. “When I’m with you, I can pretend like I’m normal. Besides, what if you thought I was crazy?”

“Jayne.” She grabbed the back of my head and pressed her forehead against mine. “You’re my best friend. I’ve known you for
ages
. I know what kind of person you are, I know how weird you can be, and I know when you’re acting strange. Don’t you think I would know if you were crazy?”

“Maybe.” I cracked a smile. “Maybe not. You’re halfway there, yourself.”

She released my head. “Okay. Cat’s out of the bag. You’re really psychic.” She tapped her lips with her finger. “It’s going to take me some time to fully appreciate that fact. So what’s in my future?”

“I’ve never seen your future.” It felt so strange to be talking about this with Dana, as casually as if discussing the weather.

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “But you saw my future at the bonfire.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I saw his future, and yours intertwined with his. But I’ve never seen yours. I don’t see people’s future’s, Dana. I See their deaths.”

“
All
people? You see everyone’s death?”

I pressed my lips together. “No, it’s kind of random. I seem to see only the awful deaths.” I thought of Herold, of Hannah, and shuddered.

“Interesting,” she murmured. “So, uh, what’s the deal with Aaron?”

I leaned forward, glad she’d approached the subject. “What did he tell you?”
And can I get his number from you?

“Not much. He sounded a little confused. Like he was trying to figure you out and hoped I had some clues.”

“Sounds like something a girl would do.”

Dana laughed. “Either that, or a guy who’s really trying to win someone over. So what gives? I know you like him.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. He didn’t talk to me all day.” I sighed. “It won’t work out anyway. I keep thinking it’s better just to let him go, but...” I shrugged. “I can’t seem to do it.”

“Who says it won’t work out? Just because he’s rich and English and extremely attractive doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be the absolutely perfect fit for you.”

“I know it won’t work.”

“How can you possibly—oh.” Her eyes widened slightly. “Really? You saw his future?”

“Yes.”

“And?” She leaned toward me, clasping her hands together. “What, he wasn’t with you?”

I bit my lip. “He left me for his ex.”

“That scumbag! Wait. It hasn’t happened yet.”

“No, but it will.” Sooner than later, at this rate.

“Now that, Jayne, you can’t know. I’m sure we could—”

“Dana. I’ve tried.” I fixed her with my most serious expression. “It never works. You’re proof. Even telling you the truth at the bonfire, I couldn’t keep you out of that car.”

“That’s just one example. I’m sure at some point—”

I was already shaking my head. “I always try.” Joshua came into my mind, his vibrant smile, the excited exuberance of a four-year-old boy.

“Joshua was the first person I tried to save,” I whispered. “I was determined to save him after I saw his death. I memorized his outfit. When he wore it, I offered his mom to babysit him all day. My goal was to keep him off the street, where I knew he got hit by a car. We played all day. Then I took him home, so pleased with myself for having staved off the tragedy.

“But Joshua slept in his clothes. The next day a car hit him while he rode his bike.” I closed my eyes. “That was the day I learned I can’t stop destiny. I can’t change our fates. I was twelve. I always try. But I’ve never succeeded.”

Dana leaned back against the pillar. “Well, damn, girl. That’s about the saddest thing ever.”

I smiled wistfully. “Yeah. No kidding.”

“Dana.” Mr. Sparks stepped out of the house. He nodded at me. “Hello, Jayne. Dana, I’m leaving now. I expect you to go inside and stay there until I get back.”

She nodded, rolling her eyes at me behind his back. “I’m grounded,” she said as he walked away. “Can’t go anywhere.”

“Not even school?”

She shrugged. “I included that in the grounding. I’ll be back on Monday.”

“I’m in trouble too. My dad assigned me a project.”

She raised her eyebrows and whistled. “A project? Wow, he hasn’t given you one of those since like, fourth grade.”

“Eighth, I think,” I clarified.

Dana frowned. “But why are you grounded? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, well...” I pushed myself to my feet. “I guess in their eyes I did.”

“That’s my fault, huh.”

It might be her fault. She was the one that wouldn’t come with me, after all. “Never mind, Danes. Could be worse.” I thought of the wreck, of that dead boy.

“Yeah,” she said softly. Then she shook herself. “Tomorrow I have permission to go to the mall with my mom. So we can talk about my future. Want to come?”

“Can’t. I’m still grounded. I have my project. Will you be at the lacrosse game tonight?”

“I thought you weren’t going to go to those anymore?”

When Stephen and I first broke up, the thought of watching him play without being his official supporter gave me indigestion. So I’d requested another reporter to go to the spring games. “I don’t care anymore. It’s the tournament. I’m going.”

“Then, yeah, if I can convince my dad to let me go. I’ll see you there.”



After a busy evening at work, I could hardly wait to get into the fresh, open air of the lacrosse game. The only reason my mom was letting me go was because she thought I had to report on it. Not about to give that away, I attached my recorder to my belt. I carried my journaling notebook under one arm and started for the bedroom door.

Just as I went to open it, my phone rang. I put my stuff down and grabbed it, thinking it might be Dana.

Unavailable.

I answered it. The cops always called from a restricted number.

“Jayne?” The deep male voice had an uncanny timbre to it that sent goosebumps down my arms.