“Oh yeah?” I raised my eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

“So I could take it for a walk.”

“Well, I’ll never have a dog, because dogs are either terrified of me or hate me and you won’t help me figure out—”

“Shut up.” Noah’s eyes closed.

“You shut up,” I said back, quite maturely.

“No—stop. Say that again.”

“Say what again?”

“About dogs.” His eyes were still closed.

“They’re either scared of me or hate me?”

“Fight or flight,” Noah said as something clearly fit into place for him. “That’s it.”

“That’s what?”

“The difference between the humans and the animals that you’ve—you know,” he gestured. “When we went to the zoo and the insects died, it was because I nearly forced you to touch the ones that terrified you most. But once they were dead, I couldn’t push you anymore.”

Flight.

He ran a hand over his mouth. “In the Everglades, you were terrified we wouldn’t reach Joseph in time, and so you eliminated what was in your way—you reacted—without needing to think.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You were pushed, and unconsciously you pushed back.”

I knew what was coming next and preempted it. “But with Morales . . .”

“You weren’t afraid,” he said.

“I was angry.” Fight.

“There are different biochemical reactions that occur in response to different emotions, like stress—”

“Adrenaline and cortisol, I know,” I said. “I took ninth grade bio too.”

Noah ignored me. “And they’re processed differently by the brain—we should read more about this.”

“Okay,” I said. But I was still frustrated; Noah once again managed to turn the conversation back to me, thereby avoiding what I wanted to know about him.

So I said, “I still think we should test your ability.”

Noah’s eyes went sharp—he was uncomfortable again. “You want to do this scientifically? Here,” Noah said, and stood. He crossed the room and picked up a bottle of Tylenol that I left on my bookshelf. Placed it on the floor. “We’ll use the scientific method: My hypothesis is that you can manipulate things with your mind.”

Deflecting again. He didn’t actually believe I could do it; he was just trying to distract me. I went along with him—for now. “Telekinesis?”

“I don’t think so, exactly, but in order to figure out what you can do, it would be helpful to know what you can’t do. So here, move this.”

“With my mind.”

“With your mind,” he said calmly. “And I’ll know if you’re not trying.”

I glared at him.

He gave me a nod. “Go on.”

Fine. I’d do this and then it would be my turn to make him do something. I dropped to the floor, crossed my legs and hunched forward, staring at the bottle.

About twenty seconds of fruitless silence later, Daniel knocked and pushed my bedroom door open all the way.

“I’m here to announce that we’re departing for the carnival in approximately twenty minutes.” He paused. I felt him look down at me, then up at Noah, then back at me. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Mara is trying to move a bottle of Tylenol with her mind,” Noah said casually.

I glared at him, then back at the bottle.

“Ah, yes,” Daniel said. “I tried that once. Not with Tylenol, though.”

“What did you use?” Noah asked.

“A penny. I also tried that ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board’ game—the levitation one, you know?” he said to Noah. “And Ouija boards, of course,” he said to me, adding a melodramatically meaningful look.

“You played with a Ouija board?” I asked slowly.

“Of course,” Daniel said. “It’s a childhood rite of passage.”

“Who did you play with?”

“Dane, Josh.” He shrugged. “Those guys.”

“Was it yours?” I felt nervous without quite knowing why.

Daniel looked taken aback. “Are you kidding?”

“What?” Noah asked.

“I would never keep one in the house,” Daniel said, shaking his head vehemently. “Conduit to the spirit world, Mara, I told you.”

Noah cracked a wry grin. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“Hey,” Daniel said. “Even men of science such as ourselves are entitled to get the heebie-jeebies now and again. Anyway,” he said, a smirk creeping onto his lips as he gestured to the Tylenol bottle, “nice to see you giving something the old college try, Mara. Though, my brain is bigger, so if I didn’t have any luck—”

I refocused on the bottle and said, “Go away.”

“Any progress on the vampire story?”

“GO AWAY.”

“Good luck!” he said cheerfully.

“I hate you,” I said as Daniel closed the door.

“What vampire story?” Noah asked.

I was still staring at the bottle. The bottle that hadn’t moved. “It was his other theory about my fake alter ego,” I explained. “An alternate to possession.”

“Well, you are awfully pale.”

I exhaled slowly. Refused to look up.

He reached for my bare foot and squeezed my toes. “And cold.”

I pulled my feet away. “Bad circulation.”

“You could always bite me, just to test.”

“I hate you, too, by the way. Just so you know.”

“Oh, I do. I would suggest make-up sex, but . . .”

“Too bad you have scruples,” I said.

“Now you’re just being cruel.”

“I like pushing your buttons.”

“You’d enjoy it more if you undid them first.”

Save me. “I think you should go and help Daniel.”

“With what?”

“Anything.”

Noah stood. There was a mischievous smile on his lips as he left.

I stared at the bottle of Tylenol for another few minutes and tried to envision it moving, but it went nowhere and I gave myself a headache. I popped it open and took two, then trudged into the kitchen and plopped down at the table across from my mother, who was sitting with her laptop. I rested my head on my arms and sighed dramatically.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Why are boys so annoying?”

She chuckled. “You know what my mother used to say?”

I shook my head, still in position.

“Boys are stupid and girls are trouble.”

Truer words were never spoken.

38

DELIGHTED SCREAMS PIERCED THE AIR AS carnival rides swirled and blinked and swung over my head. I walked with my older brother through the crowd of people; it had been years since we were last at a fair, and the second we arrived, our dad dragged our mom onto the Ferris wheel and Joseph absconded with my boyfriend to conquer some ride, leaving me and Daniel alone.

I was flooded with sounds and scents; artificial butter and giggles. Frying dough and swelling shrieks. It felt good to be out like this. Normal.

“Just you and me, sister,” Daniel said as we milled around between booths. “Whatever shall we do?”

A little kid walked by carrying enough balloons to make me wonder how many it would take for her to lift off. I smiled at her, but the second she met my eyes, she darted away. My smile fell.

We passed beneath a row of hanging stuffed animals. “I could win you a teddy bear,” I said to him. My feet crunched over discarded popcorn and I dodged a giant puddle left by an earlier drizzle.

He shook his head. “The games are rigged.”

Noah and Joseph reappeared from the multitudes, then. My little brother looked pale and shaken. Noah’s blue-gray eyes were lit with amusement.

“How was the ride?” I asked.

Joseph lifted his chin and shrugged. “It was okay.”

“He was very brave,” Noah said. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The four of us meandered until Joseph stopped us and pointed up. A huge menacing clown face towered over the entrance to a garishly painted building.

“Hall of Mirrors! Yes!”

No.

Daniel must have noticed my unease because he put his arm around Joseph’s shoulder. “I got this,” he said to Noah and me. “You guys have fun.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Joseph called back, and the crowd swallowed them up.

A slightly wicked smile appeared on Noah’s lips. My favorite. “It seems we’re on our own,” he said.

It did. “It does.”

“What shall we do with this newfound freedom?”

The twinkling lights accented the angles of his high cheekbones. Noah’s chestnut hair was a tousled, gorgeous mess.

I’m sure we can think of something, I thought. I was about to say so when I heard a voice behind us.

“Would the young lovers like their fortunes told?”

We turned to find a woman wearing the traditional costume: long and flowy printed skirt, check. Peasant blouse, check. Wavy black hair spilling out of a head wrap, check. Too much makeup, check. Regulation gold hoop earrings, check.

“I think we’ll pass,” I said to Noah. No need to tempt fate. “Unless you want to?”

He shook his head. “Thanks anyway,” he told her as we headed away.

“You must not go out there,” she called out after me.

I felt a rush of familiarity as her words tickled the back of my mind.

“What did you just say?” I’d heard those words before.

The fortune-teller peered at me with guarded eyes, her expression mysterious. “Come with me and I will explain.”

Noah sighed. “Look—”

“It’s okay,” I said, glancing up at him. “I want to go.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, his expression darkly amused. “As you wish,” he said to me, and we began to walk.

We followed the woman as she wove a path through the people to a small striped tent. She held the flap open; there were twinkle lights and crystals, flocked tablecloths and hanging tapestries. They adorned the little space without irony. Noah and I stepped in.

The fortune-teller shook her head at Noah. “You may wait outside,” she said to him. “My daughter will show you where. Miranda!” she called.

A sullen-looking girl with a pink streak in her hair appeared from behind a beaded curtain.

“Please offer this young man some tea. Show him where to sit.”

The girl, who was about thirteen or fourteen, seemed like she was about to roll her eyes until she noticed Noah; the long line of him leaning carelessly against the frame, the slight sarcastic smile on his perfect mouth. Her demeanor changed instantly and she drew herself up.

“Come on,” she said to him, and tipped her head toward the curtain.

He looked to me.

“I’ll be okay,” I said, nodding. “Go.”

Once they were gone, the fortune-teller gestured to a plastic folding chair beside a round card table that was swathed in cheap fabric. I sat. There was a deck of cards in front of me. Tarot, I presumed.

“Money first,” she said, and held out her hand.

Of course. I reached into my pocket and withdrew her fee. She tucked the cash into the folds of her skirt and then stared at me for a beat, like she was expecting something else.

I had no idea what. When she didn’t stop staring, I said, “So do I cut the deck, Miss . . .”

“Madam.”

“Madam . . . what?”

“Madam Rose.”

“Madam Rose,” I said with mock seriousness. I glanced up at a crystal ball sitting on a shelf. “Is the pseudonym thing a requirement too?”

Her expression was grave. “There is power in a name.”

The words filled my heart with ice. They echoed in my mind but in someone else’s voice. I blinked, and shook my head to clear it.

“Do you have a question?” she asked, breaking the silence.

I swallowed and refocused on Madam Rose. “What do you mean?”

“A question you seek an answer to.”

A bitter smile twisted my lips. I had tons of questions. All I had were questions. What’s happening to me? What am I? “I have lots of questions,” I finally said.

“Think carefully,” she warned. “If you ask the wrong questions, you will get the wrong answers.” Then she nodded at the deck.

I reached for it but paused before my fingers made contact. My heart thundered against my ribs.

Madam Rose noticed my hesitation and dipped her head, catching my eyes. “I can do a different type of reading, if you like.”

“Different how?”

“Give me your hands,” she said. I reluctantly placed mine in hers, palm up. She shook her head and her earrings swung with the movement; she flipped my hands over, palm down. Then she rolled her neck, her long hair draping her face like a veil. She said nothing. The silence stretched on uncomfortably.

“How long—”

“Hush,” she hissed. The fortune-teller drew her head up and examined my hands. She studied them for a few moments, then closed her heavily shadowed eyes.

I sat there while she held my hands and waited—for what, I didn’t know. After another length of time, I don’t know how long, her red lips parted. Her eyelids twitched. She tilted her head slightly up and to the left, her forehead creased in concentration. Her fingers twitched around mine and then tightened. I was getting freaked out and I nearly pulled away, but before I could, her eyes flew open.