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I try not to spin. In third grade we did an experiment where we rubbed a needle on a magnet, then dropped it onto water. The surface tension let it rest on top of the water, and the magnet sent the needle spinning.
I used to be a compass, trained on the true north of protecting Annie. Without her I lost my north.
But James is my north now. The flames are my north now. Our dark secrets are my north now.
I tap tap tap tap on the magazine. Annie. Annie. Annie. Annie.
Don’t think about Annie.
James holds out his hand to help me up and I take it, squeezing harder than I need to, willing it to be my anchor. This is what I chose, and I always choose right. James saved me. He’ll always save me.
“Are you leaving already?” Mandy asks, a whine creeping into her voice. “You never stay!”
“That’s my fault,” James says, giving the girls his winningest lie of a smile. “I’ve got to take Fia to New York.”
“New York?” I ask.
His smile goes deeper, sharper. “My father wants us working there. With him.”
I don’t know what to do with this sudden flood of uncontrolled emotion. Finally. Finally. All the things I’ve done, all this blood and betrayal and wrong will be made right. We have a plan (don’t think about the plan, never think about the plan). It will happen now.
It is happening.
James pulls me close, his arm around my waist holding me up. I am dizzy with anticipation. The beginning of the end.
“Will you come visit us?” Mandy asks. “You said the school will always be your home.”
I try to smile, but my eyes dart around the room, tracing the contours of the walls, my finger tap tap tap tapping on my leg. Always.
“Take me away,” I whisper to James, and he does.
ANNIE
Three and a Half Months Before
I PULL THE PHONE OUT OF MY POCKET, TAP IT ON THE table. The noise reminds me of Fia. Who hasn’t called. It’s been two weeks.
Two.
A throat clears. “Hey, Annie.” Adam always announces himself when he enters the room. I appreciate it.
“Can I sit?”
I nod and feel the motel couch give under his weight. Without a word I hand the phone to him. He’s been as anxious about getting word from Fia as I have; he’s the one who tracked down a charger so the cell wouldn’t die.
“No missed calls or texts,” he says, stating the obvious.
“Who’s ready for some lunch?” Sarah chirps, bringing with her the scent of grease. My stomach turns uneasily. I hate myself as soon as I think it, but I really miss the Keane school chefs. I also miss my own cell phone, with raised buttons so I could use it without help. And my white cane that folded neatly into a purse. And my braille display for my laptop.
And . . . I miss knowing where I am. Being stuck in the school for so many years has turned me into an unwilling agoraphobe. I spent all that time either knowing the exact confines of my space or out with someone I trusted completely. Being untethered is kind of terrifying.
I miss Eden.
“Where to today?” I ask, needing distraction. We’re all staying in a suite in some motel outside Denver. Our travel pattern deliberately makes no sense. Cole decides on the spot where we’re going, and we never stay anywhere for long or plan more than a few hours in advance. Sarah says it’s the best way to avoid anyone on the lookout for us, though she seems confident no Seer is going to have an eye out for me.
I’m dead, after all. So is Adam.
“Do you want me to cut your food for you?” Adam offers, and I shake my head. He’s constantly trying to help me. I wondered at first if maybe he had a crush on me, but it doesn’t feel like that.
