Page 3

“I told you, it’s not a sixth sense.”

“Okay, then, superpower. Or did you not hear the part about the bloody nose?”

I laughed. “I hardly think being able to tell someone ‘Gesundheit’ before they sneeze can be classified as a superpower.”

Paxton paused and set down the basket to rest. “Did you or did you not use your superpower to land me in the same elevator with the hot new delivery guy—who turned out to be very straight, but that’s beside the point? It’s a superpower and a sixth sense, and you can’t say anything to dissuade me.” He picked up the basket, and we continued down the path.

“Fine. But those words are only in your head. My head says seeing things five seconds in the future is more of a nuisance than a power.” I moved the blanket to my other arm. “And is there such a thing as ‘very straight?’”

Paxton nodded emphatically. “Oh, yeah, trust me, there is.”

The scary incident in the trees had mostly vanished from my mind, much like the earlier glitch. Paxton was great at distracting me from problems. I convinced myself that it had been my imagination, a sticky remnant of the scary glitch I’d had earlier.

We reached the car. As I waited for Paxton to open the trunk, I glanced back toward the meadow. Nothing. The notion of losing my grip on reality always left me with a cold, hard knot in my gut. It was getting harder to ignore that knot. As I turned, my gaze landed on a big raven. It was sitting on a post in the parking lot. Its beady black eyes were turned my direction. I swallowed hard.

“Pax,” I whispered, “Pax, that bird is watching me.”

Paxton pulled his head out of the trunk area and looked at the raven. “Nah, he’s just wondering why we don’t leave him some crumbs. Did you know that ravens and crows can remember faces, so if you cross one, they’ll remember you?” He bit his lip. “Guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that in this context. C’mon, Rafi, we need to get you home for a glass of wine. I think you’ve had too much sun today.”

I stared at the raven over the top of the car and then slipped down quickly into the passenger seat. “Definitely too much sun.”

Two

A bright sun poured through the sheer curtains on the bedroom window. I’d considered replacing them with something thicker, something to keep the morning rays out, but my mom had picked the sheer, lacy fabric herself. She’d handstitched the hems. I could never part with them, even if they were a tad impractical.

I climbed out of bed and stopped by the window to check on the garden. Working in soil and growing beautiful flowers and vegetables had been my one true therapy. This year I’d gone extra heavy on the sunflowers, and their massive heads were beginning to droop with the weight of the seeds tucked inside. An array of birds had already gathered along the fence to stare longingly at the plants. There would be plenty of seeds this year.

Just before I looked away, a large shadow flew over the house. A raven landed on the fence, scaring off the other birds. My fingers gripped the edge of the curtains tighter as yesterday’s unsettling events resurfaced. After the picnic, Paxton and I drank some wine, and by the time I got in bed, I was tired enough that the rough edge of it all had been smoothed. Glitches were always irritating, and some even left me with a bad headache, but once they were over, I could push them away. I’d never had part of a glitch follow me into reality. I’d considered the possibility that the frightening moment in the forest had just been another glitch. It was all confusing and terrifying.

I walked to the closet but stopped first to say good morning to the dynamic trio, the group name I’d given the three wooden figurines my mother gave me a week before she died. It was silly because they were only wooden carvings, but I moved them down to the other side of the shelf, out of the sun’s harsh rays, as if that would be more comfortable for them. They were intricately carved with incredible detail, and after my mom’s death, they became my friends and confidants.

Madigan, or Madi as I called her, stared up at me with her almond-shaped brown eyes. A quiver of arrows hung from a leather strap, and she carried a long, hand-carved bow in her hands. “You’re my protector,” I said. “Could have used you yesterday. Some weird stuff is happening, and more than ever, I think I’m losing my grip on … well … everything.” Normally, I left the introspective conversations for Lyric, the best friend and listener of the trio, but after the scare in the forest, I felt that Madigan was the right choice. “Anyhow, I’ll see you guys later.”

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The pipes groaned, and the water sputtered out. The house needed all new plumbing, according to the guy with the protruding belly and the obligatory butt crack, but I didn’t have the money. I’d been lucky enough to inherit the wonderful cottage from my mom, but its cozy charm could only get you so far. It was well over a century old, and it needed work. Still, I loved every corner of it.

I hurried in the shower and plucked out my Monday outfit, a straight gray skirt that fell just above the knees and a plain white blouse. Tuesday was a blue skirt with a white blouse and Wednesday I got a little wild, with a dark green skirt and white blouse. Thursday it was back to gray and Friday a lighter gray. I pulled on the flat black shoes that Paxton liked to refer to as my “mortuary worker shoes.” My tawny brown hair was long and wavy, so I always wore it up in a bun. Paxton said the stern teacher bun went perfectly with the mortuary shoes. He teased me about my style, but he knew my main goal in life was to avoid notice. The opposite of his main goal, which was to be spectacularly noticed.

I dropped two pieces of toast in the toaster and started the coffee maker. I glanced through the kitchen window. The raven was still there, perched like a statue on the garden fence. I normally didn’t mind ravens. I even left bread crumbs out for them occasionally. But at the moment, they were getting on my nerves.

“Hmm, maybe I should take them with me today.” I walked into the bedroom. The sun had moved and, once again, its rays fell on the three figurines. I swept the trio up in my hand. Austri’s fiery red hair poked my palm as I carried them to my purse and dropped them in. I sighed. “Oh my, Rafi, you are losing it.” For a second, I considered taking them back out but then Mom’s words came back to me. “These figurines will be your loyal companions whenever you’re in trouble, Rafi. Don’t ever lose them.” I snapped shut the purse.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and dropped in two sugar cubes, a habit I’d learned when Raina, my guardian, was taking care of me. I walked out to the living room. It was small and cozy and still filled with my mom’s soft, cushy couch and chairs. The couch was covered in ivory cotton and dotted with tiny violets. I’d spent hours on the couch reading books, watching movies and doing my homework. The right arm had a stain where I’d spilled my chocolate milk.

I carried my cup of coffee to the brick hearth and sat down. The copper pot Raina found at a yard sale was packed with chopped pieces of pine. The wintry scent still lingered. On cold nights, I always started a fire.

I sipped the coffee and attempted a few of my meditation techniques to relax before work. I needed this time desperately. The bus would be crowded and noisy, and once I got to work, the stress would start to strangle the life out of me. It didn’t have to be that way, but I worked with a pair of abhorrent women.

I closed my eyes. I was supposed to be clearing my head of any clutter or debris that got in the way of relaxing. Instead, sitting on the brick hearth took me back to the day Mom gave me the figurines.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my love. Come sit with me at the hearth. I have a gift for you.”

While I always loved a gift, I was too scared about the way Mom had been acting to get excited about it. Mom hadn’t seemed right since last week, when she helped our neighbor, Mrs. Dancy, after a terrible fall down her front steps. I was out skating on the sidewalk when I heard Mrs. Dancy scream. I had to march awkwardly across her lawn on my roller blades. I practically fainted at the sight of her crumpled there, her right leg twisted out at a strange angle.

I ran straight to my house, but Mom was already on her way down our steps. She raced across to our neighbor. Some of the other neighbors had come cautiously out of their homes, but no one came closer. Poor Mrs. Dancy was crying so badly, it made my chest tight. I yanked off my skates.

“Go back to the house and call for an ambulance, Rafi,” Mom instructed. I’d always wanted to use that emergency call skill they’d taught us in fifth grade.