throat tight and scratchy. As if I’d really screamed in terror, and I realized that maybe I had. Thank God no one had been around to witness it.
Two visions in such a short time—and both of them about Aidan. It was odd. Usually my visions were months apart, andthey always—
always
—involved people I knew well, people I really cared about. Which mostly limited my visions to my dad, Patsy, Gran, Lupe, and Whitney.
When I was younger I’d do really stupid things, like attempt to warn them. “Don’t ride your bike anymore,” I told Whitney once, trying not to cry. She was going to fall and break her wrist. I didn’t know when, just knew it was going to happen at some point. She’d ignored me, of course, and broken her wrist two weeks later.
It weirded people out when I tried to warn them about stuff. Not because they truly
believed
that I knew things before they happened, but because it made me seem like a freak—a crazy, hysterical freak—even when my predictions came true. People were uncomfortable with things they didn’t understand, and no one understood me. So I’d learned to keep my mouth shut—most of the time, at least. Until my dad . . .
Forget lunch, I had to get over to the gym now. It was the only way I knew to clear my head, to push away the unpleasant thoughts and memories and concentrate on the foil instead.
In minutes I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail. Rising on unsteady legs, I grabbed my bag and dashed out. Only when I’d gotten halfway down the hall did I realize I hadn’t even locked the door, and I ran back and fumbled with the key until I heard the bolt click into place.
Hurrying through the East Hall lounge, I kept my head down, focusing on the floor as I made my way past the tables and chairs toward the far side of the room.
Please don’t let me run into anyone I know,
I thought, increasing my pace. The last thing I wanted was to have to stop and chat. But just when I thought I’d made it through safely, I heard someone call out my name. A hand reached for my shoulder and I spun around, surprised to find Aidan standing there.
“We need to talk,” he said.
A shudder ran through me. “Not right now.”
“Yes, right now. Come on, follow me,” he commanded, and I didn’t even think to refuse. Instead I simply followed him, down a flight of stairs and into a long hallway.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To a study room. Here, come on.” He opened a door to our right, and I followed him inside. The light flickered on, humming noisily, and it occurred to me that he hadn’t even touched the switch.
“How did you—”
“What happened?” he asked brusquely, interrupting me.
“What do you mean, what happened?”
“I sensed your fear, heard you call out my name.”
“I . . . no, I didn’t.”
Stone wall,
I told myself. Great Wall of China, around my thoughts.
“The Great Wall of China isn’t going to do it, Violet. Come on, tell me what happened.”
Feeling slightly woozy, I dropped my bag to the floor beside my feet. No way was I telling him what I’d seen—not till I had more to go on. The vision had been too quick, too vague. I needed specifics before I could consider warning him. “Why were you listening to my thoughts?” I finally asked.
“I wasn’t. You called my name—telepathically,” he clarified. “Several times, actually, and you sounded terrified. Tell me what you saw.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, hedging.
“You know about things before they happen, don’t you?”
I felt the blood drain from my face, and my heart skipped a beat. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Call it whatever you want—premonitions, dreams, flashes of the future. Somehow you
see
. And you just saw something—something about
me
.”
“No.” I shook my head wildly. “No, it’s just intuition, that’s all.” My vision began to narrow, and for a split second I thought I was going to faint—or even worse, have another episode. I took
Two visions in such a short time—and both of them about Aidan. It was odd. Usually my visions were months apart, andthey always—
always
—involved people I knew well, people I really cared about. Which mostly limited my visions to my dad, Patsy, Gran, Lupe, and Whitney.
When I was younger I’d do really stupid things, like attempt to warn them. “Don’t ride your bike anymore,” I told Whitney once, trying not to cry. She was going to fall and break her wrist. I didn’t know when, just knew it was going to happen at some point. She’d ignored me, of course, and broken her wrist two weeks later.
It weirded people out when I tried to warn them about stuff. Not because they truly
believed
that I knew things before they happened, but because it made me seem like a freak—a crazy, hysterical freak—even when my predictions came true. People were uncomfortable with things they didn’t understand, and no one understood me. So I’d learned to keep my mouth shut—most of the time, at least. Until my dad . . .
Forget lunch, I had to get over to the gym now. It was the only way I knew to clear my head, to push away the unpleasant thoughts and memories and concentrate on the foil instead.
In minutes I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail. Rising on unsteady legs, I grabbed my bag and dashed out. Only when I’d gotten halfway down the hall did I realize I hadn’t even locked the door, and I ran back and fumbled with the key until I heard the bolt click into place.
Hurrying through the East Hall lounge, I kept my head down, focusing on the floor as I made my way past the tables and chairs toward the far side of the room.
Please don’t let me run into anyone I know,
I thought, increasing my pace. The last thing I wanted was to have to stop and chat. But just when I thought I’d made it through safely, I heard someone call out my name. A hand reached for my shoulder and I spun around, surprised to find Aidan standing there.
“We need to talk,” he said.
A shudder ran through me. “Not right now.”
“Yes, right now. Come on, follow me,” he commanded, and I didn’t even think to refuse. Instead I simply followed him, down a flight of stairs and into a long hallway.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To a study room. Here, come on.” He opened a door to our right, and I followed him inside. The light flickered on, humming noisily, and it occurred to me that he hadn’t even touched the switch.
“How did you—”
“What happened?” he asked brusquely, interrupting me.
“What do you mean, what happened?”
“I sensed your fear, heard you call out my name.”
“I . . . no, I didn’t.”
Stone wall,
I told myself. Great Wall of China, around my thoughts.
“The Great Wall of China isn’t going to do it, Violet. Come on, tell me what happened.”
Feeling slightly woozy, I dropped my bag to the floor beside my feet. No way was I telling him what I’d seen—not till I had more to go on. The vision had been too quick, too vague. I needed specifics before I could consider warning him. “Why were you listening to my thoughts?” I finally asked.
“I wasn’t. You called my name—telepathically,” he clarified. “Several times, actually, and you sounded terrified. Tell me what you saw.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, hedging.
“You know about things before they happen, don’t you?”
I felt the blood drain from my face, and my heart skipped a beat. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Call it whatever you want—premonitions, dreams, flashes of the future. Somehow you
see
. And you just saw something—something about
me
.”
“No.” I shook my head wildly. “No, it’s just intuition, that’s all.” My vision began to narrow, and for a split second I thought I was going to faint—or even worse, have another episode. I took
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