by Katie Klein
“Selena!” I cry again.
I catch up with her just as she’s unlocking the door. Her phone is still pressed to her ear. I run to the front bumper, just to make sure: Daddy’s Girl is airbrushed onto a pink plate.
“Selena, I need to talk to you,” I say. “It’s important.”
“Excuse me?” she asks, pulling her phone away from her ear.
“Hang up!” I demand. “We need to talk.”
She makes a face, rolls her eyes, then puts the phone back to her ear. “I’m being bothered. Can I call you later?”
She opens the car door and tosses the phone onto the passenger’s seat. “I have nothing to say to you.”
I don’t care. “Which way are you going home today?”
She narrows her eyes to tiny slits. “That’s none of your business.”
“It might be,” I say. “Please, just answer.”
“Why should I? My date the other night was ruined thanks to you.” She folds her arms in defiance, pouting. “The second you showed up Carter bailed emotionally. It was the perfect chance for us to spend some real time together . . .”
“Selena, there might not be another chance if you don’t answer my question,” I interrupt.
She rolls her eyes again. “What is the big deal?”
I want to shake her by the shoulders, to wake her up, to beat an ounce of understanding into her thick, stubborn head. “Just tell me: which way do you go home?” I practically shout. The rush of blood hammers in my ears.
“Jesus. Chill.” She tells me her usual route, with an added “Freak” tacked on to the end.
“Are you going straight home?”
“No. I’m headed to the dentist. I have an appointment to get my teeth whitened.”
“You don’t have to take The Strip to get there, do you?”
“What planet do you even live on?” she asks. “You have to take The Strip to get anywhere in this God-forsaken town.”
Of course you do.
I take a deep breath, working to steady my pounding heart. “Okay, I know this sounds crazy, but I need you to do me a favor.”
“I’m not giving you a ride,” she says, climbing into the driver’s seat.
“I don’t need a ride. It’s just that . . . you can’t go down The Strip today.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . um. . . .” I debate whether or not to continue, to tell her the truth. I mean, why does it even matter? She hates me anyway. But then . . . I know what’s about to happen, and I can’t keep something like that inside. I inhale deeply. “I saw something. An accident.”
“You saw an accident?”
“I saw you getting into an accident,” I clarify. “This afternoon. I know. It sounds weird, but you have to trust me. You can’t drive down The Strip today. Something bad is going to happen.”
Selena bursts into a fit of giggles. “Are you joking? Am I being punked?”
I step back, a shiver of panic trembling in my stomach.
“I guess you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she goes on. “Because if you can’t have Carter no one should.”
“This isn’t about Carter! I have nothing against you. And I’d never lie about something like this. This is serious.”
She shakes her head in disbelief, pulls her car door shut, and cranks the engine of her little white BMW.
I bang on the window with my fist, desperate. “Selena, please! You have to believe me! You can’t go that way today!”
A group of juniors passes behind the car, eyeing me carefully. It dawns on me that I am about two or three antics away from being committed.
Selena turns up the volume on her radio. The beat of a rap song booms in her after-market stereo. The car itself rattles, the ground beneath me shaking.
She throws the gear in reverse and backs out of the space.
God! Why won’t she listen?
I scream inside my head, staggering backward. The parking lot, and everything in it, twirls madly. I swipe away the sweat gathering on my neck, fearing, but not for the first time, that I might actually faint.
“Are you okay?”
I spin around.
“Oh my God, Carter.” Carter. “I need you to do me a favor. It’s not for me. It’s Selena, and I can explain, but I need you to follow her.”
Already, her car is pulling out of the parking lot.
“This is crazy, I know, and I’m sorry, but we need to go after her . . . like, right now.”
He raises a single eyebrow, hesitating for a second, but then his expression softens. “Get in.”
I run the entire way to Carter’s SUV. Carter keeps pace. I reach for my seatbelt as soon as we’re inside, hands quaking as I work to buckle myself in. “This is really weird, but I can explain. I need you to hear me out. Just listen first, okay?”
The engine roars to life, and, in seconds, we’re backing out of the space. “Okay.”
I inhale deeply. “I’ve been getting a lot of weird feelings lately. Like, I know what’s gonna happen before it happens. I know. It sounds freakish . . . I think I am freakish, actually, but I had this vision today, and I think Selena is about to get into a wreck, but she didn’t believe me and left anyway.” My words tumble out, racing one after the other with barely a pause in between. “She is so freaking stubborn!” I shout. We reach the end of the parking lot. “She took a left. She’s heading to the dentist. We need to stay on The Strip.”
Carter barely pauses for the stop sign, makes sure no one is coming, then takes a hard left and presses the gas, passing a few cars.
“So . . . you’re saying you can predict the future?” He asks as soon as we’re on the road.
I grab the handle on the ceiling for support. “I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s real. And it’s not the first time.”
“Okay. So what exactly happens?”
I sigh. “I see these . . . flashes of light in my head, and then I see an image of . . .”
“No,” he interrupts. “I mean, what happens today?”
I take another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts, to remember what I saw. “She’s driving, and when she gets to an intersection there’s a green car. It hits her. Driver’s side. She spins around. That’s all I know.”
The needle of the speedometer inches further away from the limit as Carter slips into the middle lane to pass a few more cars.
“I tried to tell her,” I mutter. “I told her to take a different way.”
“Selena writes her own rules.”
I rub the bridge of my nose with my fingers and close my eyes. My temples throb, spasming rhythmically.
“Call her on my cell,” he implores. “She’ll pick up. I know it.”
I search the console.
“It’s in my bag.” He nods toward the back.
I turn around in my seat, then jerk back, startled to discover that the rear of the vehicle is occupied.
Seth brings his finger to his lips. I furrow my brow, wondering where he came from, how long he’s been here. And he isn’t alone. There’s someone else—another guy, a few years older—sitting beside him. The guy nods.
He’s here.
Relief floods over me, and for a moment, I forget what I’m supposed to be doing.
Seth finally makes a phone gesture with his hand, and mouths the word. I snap back to reality and reach for Carter’s bag. I pull it into the seat with me and fish through the front pocket until I find it.
When I turn back around, Seth is still there. The other guy peers around Carter’s head, watching the road, his broad arms folded across his chest.
“It’s pre-programmed,” Carter says. “Just hit three six four and her number will show up.”
I dial and wait for the phone to ring. If we can just get her off the road, or to take a detour, everything will be okay. The phone rings twice. Three times. Come on, Selena, pick up your phone! Five times.
“She had her music turned up so loud. I know she can’t hear it.”
“Pick up the phone, Selena!” I scream.
“There she is!”
I jerk my head up. “Where?”
“She’s up there, about a block away.”
Carter switches lanes again. I watch as the speedometer creeps even higher. This should make me nervous, but the liquid panic coursing through my veins dominates my emotions. I feel nothing else.
I lean forward, practically out of the seat, the belt pulled taut against my shoulder. I wring my fingers, not taking my eyes off the white BMW as Selena passes through another intersection.
“Try calling again,” Carter says. “If I can get behind her, I’ll honk the horn until she pulls over.”
I pick up the phone and re-dial. One ring. Two. Three.
Ahead of us, I watch as she approaches a red light. Her brake lights glow.
Good. This will give us a chance to catch up.
As soon as I think this, though, the light changes from red to green, and before Selena even comes to a complete stop, she presses the gas, speeding through it.
We seem to spot the green car at exactly the same time: heading straight through the intersection, perpendicular to Selena.
“Shit,” one of us says, just before the green car makes contact. The metal wrenches and tires skid, squealing against the asphalt. The sound is too familiar—for both of us. Selena’s car spins around the intersection in slow motion. The street lights with the glow of red taillights as cars behind and around her slam on their brakes. One ends up on the sidewalk. Another on the grass. In a matter of seconds, the entire world stops.
Carter’s face is ashen, grim, completely devoid of color. His fingers grip the steering wheel.
“We have to help her!” I tell him.
He makes a quick right turn into a random parking lot and kills the engine. We jump out of the car and run toward the accident. In the next moment, Seth is beside me.
Smoke pours out of the hood of the green car, which is folded accordion-style.
Traffic remains at a standstill. Our feet pound against the pavement as we maneuver between the cars, my breaths heavy in my ears. Carter reaches her first.
He pulls open her door and Selena crawls out. When she sees us, she bursts into tears. She falls into Carter’s arms, her entire body shaking.
“Someone call nine one one!” Carter shouts, to no one in particular.
Seth passes me Carter’s phone. I take it from him and dial. A crowd already gathers.
A woman in scrubs, an off-duty nurse, runs over to us. She leads Selena out of the intersection and onto a grassy knoll behind the sidewalk. As I speak to the operator, I notice that parts of Selena’s face are red: burned from when the airbag deployed. Otherwise, she doesn’t appear to be hurt. Most of the damage is located to the back seat area and rear of the vehicle.
If she would’ve been going any slower. . . .
Seth remains beside me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder, his warmth radiating through my skin, making it tingle. I lean in, closer, not wanting him to leave. The other guy—the one with him in the car—hovers near Carter. Carter doesn’t see either of them. No one does.
There’s a girl kneeling near Selena. I watch her. When she sees me staring, she offers a polite smile. I look away.
Traffic starts moving again, flowing around the accident, and a siren wails in the distance.
In the intersection I recognize Joshua, the same Guardian from the Japanese restaurant. He’s directing traffic, his dirty blonde hair shimmering in the sun like a crown of light. I look around: from Seth, to the guy with Carter, to Joshua and the rest of the people gathered nearby, and wonder who is real and who isn’t. It’s impossible to tell.
Joshua vanishes when the police arrive. The nurse vanishes when the ambulance arrives. The girl climbs into the back of the rescue vehicle when the paramedics load Selena to get checked out. They can’t see her. Selena can’t see her.
My attention is drawn to another girl, not much older than me. Her arm is covered in colorful tattoos, an entire sleeve of red, blue, and green ink. I remain still for a moment, feeling that I know this girl, too. Wondering where I’ve seen her as she disappears inside the store. At some point, Seth leaves. When I realize he’s gone, my heart plummets. I search the crowd for him.
“I can’t believe it,” Carter mutters as the ambulance drives away. “You were serious. The whole freakin’ time . . . you actually knew what was going to happen. It was just like you said.”
I hug my elbows tightly as I shiver, but not because I’m cold. “What a burden, right?” I mutter.
“Or a gift.”
I force a bitter laugh. “Yeah. It’s great seeing things that no one believes. Your phone.” I say, passing it back to him.
“Thanks.” My fingers brush lightly against his as he takes it.
I focus my attention on the ground—my feet—as we walk to Carter’s SUV, body still shaking from the rush of adrenaline. “Um, if it’s okay with you, I don’t want anyone to know about this. You know, my knowing what was going to happen. This is hard enough as it is. I don’t want people asking questions. I don’t need that kind of attention.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, as if people ask him to keep secrets like this—of this magnitude—all the time.
“And Carter?” I say, just as we reach his car.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For believing, I mean.”
SEVENTEEN
Carter drops me off in front of Ernie’s just as my shift is about to start. I’m dangerously close to being late—a fire-able offense, in Ernie’s eyes. But then, everything is a fire-able offense to Ernie. I run to the kitchen, grab my apron and notepad, and head to the first table without drinks. The good thing about this—being in a rush—is that there’s no time to talk, or eat. The truth? I can’t stomach Stu’s eggs—I can’t stomach anything. Not today. Thankfully, the steady stream of customers demanding refills and extra napkins keeps me busy throughout the night. I’m grateful for the distraction, happy to have small, manageable tasks to occupy my mind. I don’t want to talk. Not to Arsen, who makes a point to smile at me every time I pick up a table’s entrees from the kitchen window. Not to Flavia or Stu. I even ignore my mom, who keeps asking, in passing, if something is bothering me.
It’s after eleven when we arrive home. And when we walk inside the house and she flips on the lights, I head straight for the bathroom, lock the door behind me, and turn on the hot water.
I sit down on top of the toilet, bury my face in the towel I grabbed from beneath the sink, and burst into the tears that I’ve forced back the majority of the afternoon. Throat tight and eyes burning. I can’t pinpoint exactly why I’m crying: because I witnessed an accident I predicted, because Selena wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to warn her, because Carter believed me—no questions asked, because Seth was there . . . always. . . . Maybe all of it.
When the tub fills, I shut off the water, undress and climb in, then cover my face with a hot, wet washcloth, rinsing away the black mascara zebra-striped across my cheeks. I wipe my nose and take a deep breath. My chest shudders. I close my eyes to relax, but all I can see is the green car crossing the intersection, slamming into Selena. I don’t want to shut my eyes. They ache, a dull pain throbbing behind them. I don’t want to see the accident playing out in my head anymore, an endless loop of nightmare. I don’t want to risk seeing something new, either. My temples pound in consternation.
In my bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I brush through my stringy, wet hair with my fingers, and stare in the mirror.
And there’s Seth, reflected behind me. His face replicates my hurt. My eyes fill with tears as I spin around, crashing into him. Tears stream down my face as I press my body against his, mingling between our skin.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I choke, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He sits me down on the edge
of my bed, his brow furrowed, frowning. “It wasn’t you, Genesis. I should’ve never left you like that.”
I don’t know how long we sit there, quiet, holding each other.
When I can breathe again, I swallow hard, swiping my tears away. “Why did you come today?”
“You needed me. It’s my job.”
I move further onto my bed, crossing my legs Indian-style. “It’s not your job to let me see you. And that doesn’t explain why I could see everyone else.”
“Everyone else?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Joshua. And that guy in the car.”
He remains quiet for a moment, thinking, before exhaling loudly. “After your . . . vision, or whatever you want to call it, I made a few contacts. Just so we would be ready.”
“We. The Guardians?”
“Yes.”
“The other guy—the one riding with you—was that . . .”
“Carter’s Guardian? Yes. That was James.”
I smile softly. I like knowing that Carter has a Guardian following him around. “And the girl with Selena,” I clarify.
“There were others, too.” Seth takes another deep breath. “The truth is . . . they know about you. About your gift, I mean,” he goes on. “Word is spreading fast. This whole thing . . . it’s a bad idea.” He shakes his head, expression grim.
“What? Why?”
He rubs his eyes with the base of his palms. “Because this is hard enough as it is. The visions. You. Me. . . .” He trails off, allowing the words to hang suspended between us. “We were only able to work together today because of what you saw.” He looks up at me, his dark eyes smoldering. “This sounds crazy, but there’s this thing . . . I guess you would call it a battle. Good versus evil. It’s going on . . . all the time. And I don’t want you dragged in the middle of it.”
I scoff. “A battle of good and evil? That’s so completely unoriginal.”
“Why? Why would you believe anything else? Look around you, Genesis. The world is full of evil. Since the beginning of time: evil. Evil things. Evil people. If you’re predicting these events. . . .” He stops.
