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“It’s my birthday,” Francis explained. “The big One-Five.”
Sam felt a bead of sweat roll down his back. “You’re ready, right? I mean, you’ve read the write-up on what you have to do?”
“I’ve read it,” Francis said. But his voice betrayed him.
Sam grabbed his arm. “No, Francis. No.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Francis said.
“No,” Astrid said firmly. “You don’t want to do this.”
Francis shrugged. Then he grinned shyly. “My mom, she needs me. She and my dad just broke up. And, anyway, I miss her.”
“What do you mean they just broke up?”
“They’ve been thinking about it a long time. But last week my dad just took off. And she’s alone, right, so—”
“Francis, what are you talking about?” Astrid demanded irritably. “We’ve been in the FAYZ for seven months. You don’t know what’s going on with your parents.”
“The Prophetess told me.”
“The what?” Astrid snapped. “Francis, have you been drinking?”
Sam felt frozen, unable to react. He knew instantly what this was about.
“The Prophetess told me,” Francis said. “She saw…she knows and she told me…” He was getting more and more agitated. “Look, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
“Then stop acting like an idiot,” Sam said, finding his voice at last.
“My mom needs me,” Francis said. “More than you do. I have to go to her.”
“What makes you think the poof takes you to your mother?”
“It’s a door,” Francis said. His eyes clouded over as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at Sam anymore. He was inside his own head, his voice singsong, as if reciting something he’d heard. “A door, a pathway, an escape to bliss. Not a birthday: a rebirthday.”
“Francis, I don’t know who is telling you this, but it’s not true,” Astrid said. “No one knows what happens if you step out.”
“She knows,” Francis said. “She explained it to me.”
“Francis, I’m telling you not to do this,” Sam said urgently. “Look, I know about Orsay. I know, all right? And maybe she thinks this is true, but you can’t risk it.”
He felt Astrid’s penetrating gaze. He refused to acknowledge the unspoken question.
“Dude, you are the man,” Francis said with a soft smile. “But even you can’t control this.”
Francis turned and walked quickly away. He stopped after a dozen feet. Mary Terrafino was running toward him. She waved her stick-thin arms and yelled, “Francis! No!”
Francis raised his hand and checked his watch. His smile was serene.
Mary reached him, grabbed him by the shirt, and yelled, “Don’t you leave those children. Don’t you dare leave those children! They’ve lost too much. They love you.”
Francis slipped off his watch and held it out to her. “It’s all I have to give you.”
“Francis, no.”
But she was holding air. Yelling at air.
The watch lay in the grass.
