in the photo.”
Glitch sat staring at us. We let him take it all in. Absorb. “That’s kind of cool,” he said, his voice uncertain.
“Kind of cool?” Brooke asked. “It’s the coolest thing ever. Well, okay, besides Jared being the Angel of Death. That was a tad cooler.”
I glanced at her and we shrugged in agreement.
“No, it is,” he said. “But what does it mean?”
“That’s what we’d like to know,” Brooke said.
“Have you told your grandparents?”
“No, not yet. It’s all still in test phase. As soon as I know more, I’ll go to them.”
“You said you’d go to them tomorrow,” Brooke said, accusing me with her eyes. “You pinkie swore.”
“I will.”
“Lor—”
“Brooke—”
“Can we get back to the picture thing?” Glitch asked, still absorbing. Wet newspaper was more absorbent.
So we spent the next hour explaining everything and going into a couple of pictures to prove I could do it. Everyone was a skeptic. But Brooke brought out some pictures from our grade school days. I went into a couple and recounted what happened in each. I was getting better. I could manipulate my position, could see the environment outside the frame of the picture.
Glitch didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t sure why this was any harder to believe than my having visions or Jared being the Angel of Death, but for some reason, he seemed to be having a difficult time with it.
Then he asked, “What about digital images? You know, like a picture on a phone or a computer?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know. Let’s try it.”
He brought up a picture on his cell phone of him riding his dirt bike in the mountains.
“Who took this?” I asked.
He grinned. “You tell me.”
With a grimace of doubt, I touched the screen and concentrated. And just as before, I drifted forward, into the picture, into the scene, a curtain of pixels parting to let me inside. The shrill sound of his motorcycle as he kicked up an unnecessary amount of dirt hit me like a cannon blast. I covered my ears.
Or at least, I felt like I covered my ears. No one else was around. Before I got cast out of the photo, I stepped to the side to see who was taking the picture, but his phone sat on a log. He’d propped it up and set the timer.
A split second before the picture snapped, I looked past the camera and saw his dad standing in the distance.
The light flashed bright and I was back. I blinked at him. “You took that picture. And really, must you stir up that much dirt?”
His smile faded.
“Wait, how did he take the—? Oh,” Brooke said. “Your phone has a timer?” She took it from me and started punching buttons.
“Yeah, but how did you know?”
“We just told you,” she said. Then she gaped at me. “He never listens.”
He stared at her. “No, I know what you said, but … that’s amazing.”
“Know what’s more amazing?” I asked, offering him a knowing grin. “Your dad was watching you that day.”
His mouth fell open even farther. “How did you—?” He caught himself. “You’re right. He came out to watch me. I didn’t even know it until later.” Leaning back in the chair, he furrowed his brows in thought.
“But what does this mean?”
I breathed out a heavy sigh. “That’s just it. What does any of it mean? I can touch someone and get a vision. I can look at a picture and see what was happening. But honestly, in the grand scheme of things, what good do those things do anyone?”
“Lor, you’re selling yourself short.” Brooke almost glared at me. “As usual.”
“I’m not selling anything. It was sold to me. I had no choice.”
After whining a bit longer, I told Glitch about the conversation my parents had when I was born.
“And you think they were referring to your grandfather from your dad’s side?” he asked.
“Who else? My dad said, ‘She has my father’s chin’ seconds before my mom said they should tell me when I was older. It has to be him. Which leads me to Plan A.”
“Oh, crap,” Glitch said. “Whenever you guys start lettering your plans, trouble always follows. And by the time we get to Plan E—because every single plan before that has failed—all hell breaks loose.”
“Does that mean you’re out?” Brooke asked, a knowing expression on her face.
He snorted. “No way. I’m so in, it’s unreal. I just wanted you to know that if we make it to Plan E, I’m running. Far away. And possibly changing my name.”
We laughed. “It’s not that bad,” I said to ease his mind. “I just know where the records are stored. As soon as my grandparents go to bed, I’m going to sneak down to the basement and get all the information I can on him. Surely, they’ll have something.”
“Then we can do an Internet search,” Glitch said. “I can start now, actually. What was his name?”
“I only know his nickname, what they called him.”
“Oh.” Brooke looked disappointed. “That probably won’t help.”
“You never know.” He turned the chair to face my computer again. “Okay, give it to me.”
“Um, they called him Mac.”
They both looked at me. “Seriously?” she said. “A guy with the last name of McAlister and they called him Mac? How bizarre.”
“Well, I can at least use that to do a search. Do you know anything else? Like where he was from?”
“I just know that he was from the Northeast. Possibly Maine. But they moved to New Mexico long before my dad met my mother.”
“Okay, well, keep thinking.”
Brooklyn checked the clock. “What time do your grandparents go to bed?”
“Nine or ten, depending. We still have hours.” Then I grinned at her. “Plenty of time for you to do my algebra homework.”
“I’ve already done the assignment. Why don’t you just copy mine?”
With a gasp I said, “That’s cheating. Besides, that would require work on my part.” I handed her the homework sheet and a pencil. “Remember, try to write like me.”
“Lorelei?”
I turned toward the voice and tried to swim to the surface of sleep.
“Lorelei, wake up.”
It was Cameron. I recognized his voice and the not-so-gentle nudging. Was I late for school?
I pried open an eye. It was still dark outside, and the wind and rain had yet to let up. Surely there were special contingencies set aside for such mornings.
Then I bolted upright. “I fell asleep!” I said, my gaze darting about the room. Brooke was asleep too, and Glitch was sprawled on the floor, his hand resting on a pillow where his head should have been. Poor guy. He couldn’t possibly be comfortable. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. We had a Plan A.”
One corner of Cameron’s mouth lifted. “Your plans don’t always work out for the best. It’s probably good that you fell asleep.”
The last thing I remembered was Brooke demonstrating the quadratic formula as she did my homework. Which would explain the sudden onset of narcolepsy.
“Lorelei,” he said, his expression grave, “are you coherent?”
After rubbing my eyes, I gave a weak, “Kind of. Are we late?”
“No.” He took hold of my chin until I looked at him.
