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Dulcie shakes the jelly-bean bag, hunting for the right flavor. “Trust me, he doesn’t die for another forty-two years.”
My stomach goes cold. “Hold up—you know what’s going to happen to him? You can see people’s futures?”
The fire casts shadows across Dulcie’s face, dulling some of the brightness. She’s got a weird expression, like she swallowed a popcorn jelly bean when she thought she was getting lemon. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yeah, actually, you just sort of did.”
“You sure you don’t want to see that ice sculpture thing … ?”
“No. Do not change the subject. All this time, you’ve been feeding me bullshit about not knowing and only being a messenger when you can see the future—my future?”
“I told you, I didn’t say that.” She looks pained. “Cameron, please. Trust me.”
“Why? Why should I trust you? Oh Jesus.” I laugh. “I’m in the middle of f**king nowhere, no meds, no doctors, all because of you!”
“You’re alive, Cameron.”
“For how long?”
“How long does anybody have?” she asks softly.
By the campfire, the guys are really upping the ante with Balder. By my last count, he’s been strangled twice, impaled four times with various objects, and had handfuls of rocks thrown at him. He’s laughed off every insult with “Is that the best you can do?” I wish I felt as bulletproof.
I cross my arms and glare at Dulcie. “Tell me my future. I want to know.”
“No can do. Against the rules.”
“We’re way beyond rules here, Dulcie.”
She stands firm, and I can tell by the way she’s set her chin that she’s not budging on this one. Funny how you can start to know little things like that about people.
“Okay, fine. We’ll take it down a notch. What about the goon brothers?” I ask. “Can you tell me theirs?”
She glances in their direction. “I’m telling you, Cameron, it’s not a great idea.”
“I think it’s the best freaking idea I’ve heard in a long time. Go on. Fire away.”
Dulcie fiddles with the laces on her combat boots. “No,” she says quietly.
“Screw you, then.” In the firelight I see Dulcie flinch. It’s a small thing, but I feel lousy about it, and I wish I could take it back. She puts the jelly-bean bag to her head like a carnival magician deciphering a message from beyond through an object. “Marty—Left Guy—is going to barf hot dogs tonight.”
o;Beautiful,” I mumble.
“What?”
“Oh. Um. The stars. Beautiful.”
“Yeah,” she says. “For ghosts.” She sucks a jelly bean in her back teeth. “It takes millions of years for that light to reach us. By the time we see it, that star’s probably dead and gone.”
“Wow. Way to kill the mood.”
One of her eyebrows lifts. “Did we have a mood?”
“Um, no. Not, I mean, not a mood mood.”
“Hmph.” Dulcie loops an arm around my shoulders. It’s warm and nice. “How ’bout this, then? Somewhere out in the galaxy, right this minute, there’s a big ball of gas and gravity heating up, pressing together, forming something new and bold and awesome, until finally, it can’t take it anymore, and it spits out all this energy, just sending that light out into the universe. Schoooom!” She swooshes her other arm through the air and goes kapow with her fingers. “Even stars gotta leave home, see things, go places. Better?”
“Better,” I say.
