“And you still showed up.”
“I owed Fia her freedom. And she needed me.”
“As a general rule, when you think someone’s going to kill you, you run the opposite direction.”
“Yes, sir.” I stand, brushing the sand off my pants. He joins me in the walk back to the house and I turn things around in my head, everything mixing together and jumbling up. Cole’s tragic history. Fia’s choice to leave me. Her relationship with James.
The world bursts into bright colors, and I see a girl, a teenager, but tiny. She’s got white hair and black eyes. She’s sitting across from a woman I actually recognize—Doris, from the school—but she looks bored, slouched with one leg draped lazily over the side of her chair.
“Could you please state your name?” Doris says, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
The girl doesn’t say anything, her gaze steady under one raised eyebrow.
Doris frowns. “Your name is not Katniss Everdeen. Think your name. Your name. The name your mother called you. The name on your birth certificate.” Doris’s face is growing angrier. “This isn’t a joke.”
“No, Doris Robertson, it isn’t. But you are. This whole place is. Do any of you think I haven’t already pulled from your brains exactly what’s going on here? I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to your boss. I should be working for Mr. Keane, not trapped in a school with a bunch of scared brats who have no idea what they can do. What’s his phone number?”
Doris stammers. “I can’t—you—”
The girl sighs and pulls out her phone, dialing a number. “Too easy,” she says. “Hello, this is Mae Rubio. I’d like to speak with Mr. Keane.”
The image shifts, and I see the same girl on a sidewalk, shivering, a wild and terrified look in her eyes. Another girl stands close, holding her by the arm. That’s when I realize—Fia. She’s with Fia. Whoever this girl is, she’s going to be with Fia sometime in the future.
Fia’s holding a broken bottle like a weapon.
And then I’m back in the dark, but not back in reality. I try not to freak out, try to calm my brain down because I’m worried if I get too excited the vision will stop, but it all continues as it did before. The hand in mine. The invisible slide and click of pieces falling into place as vision-me realizes she is in love.
“Annie,” someone whispers, and I want to scream in frustration because if he’s whispering, how can I recognize his voice when I hear it again? But vision-me, caught in the same eternal darkness I am, doesn’t mind. She knows exactly who she is with and how she feels about it, and our racing hearts match pace.
“Annie?”
The sound of Cole’s voice nearly makes my racing heart stop, until I realize with a shuddering gasp that reality has reclaimed me, and I’m back outside with Cole.
“Vision?”
I nod, disoriented. I’m sitting down. I wasn’t sitting down before. “Did I fall?”
“You stopped walking and were pretty gone. I was worried you’d fall, so I helped you sit.”
“Thanks.” I push myself up, Cole’s hand on my elbow turning me toward the house. I take off my sunglasses to rub the bridge of my nose, then settle them back into place.
“What did you see?” he asks, and it takes me a few seconds to process what he’s asking. Visions are so disorienting. And I kind of resent having to dive back into reality right now; I’d like to hold on to the few remaining strands of how it felt to be me in that last vision. I love how it feels to be me in that vision. I want it so much it hurts.
“There you are,” Rafael calls, his voice warm against the chill of the evening. I can hear his smile in it. “You left so quickly I was worried you were upset.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, I—”
“Did something happen? You look flushed.” He puts his hand against my cheek, which means if I wasn’t already flushed, I certainly am now.
“A vision.”
“Really? Come, let’s get you inside.” He takes my hand—for the briefest second my heart flutters at the thought that it could be his hand—until I realize that it’s not. I’d know that hand anywhere now, and it isn’t Rafael’s. There’s a whisper of disappointment in my soul. It would have been so exciting to know it was Rafael. Oh well. He puts my hand on his arm, walking very close to me so that I’m entirely filled with the smell of him. The dark, heady spice of his cologne feels appropriate for how disoriented I am right now.
“There was a girl,” I say, letting the images wash over my memory, relishing the look of the world. “White hair, dark eyes. At the school, being interviewed by a woman named Doris Robertson, a Reader there.” I snort a small laugh. “The girl totally ran circles around her. Her name was . . . Mae Rubio. And then later I saw her with Fia.” I swallow hard against the swelling of emotions. “Not doing anything specific, but it looked like they knew each other. That’s probably why I saw her in the first place.” I don’t mention the broken bottle or how scared Mae looked. Was Fia about to hurt her?
I feel sick thinking about it. I’m glad the vision ended when it did. For once I don’t wish for more information.
“Explain?” Rafael prods. “Why would that make you see her?”