Chapter 21 #2
“This should be good,” Chloe muses. “Is it the same intuition that told you kissing your enemy was a good idea? Or the one that said you could juggle two guys indefinitely? Your track record with feelings is stellar, Messenger. Wait, let me guess—you had a prophetic dream? Or maybe a supernatural visitor? Or did you consult your magic eight ball? It must be so exhausting being the main character in your own personal paranormal drama while the rest of us are just trying to plan a normal ski trip.”
I chose to ignore Chloe’s little tirade and focus my energy back where it belongs. “Besides, Kate, think about all the homework we’ll have when we get back. Wouldn’t it be better to stay ahead of things?”
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best way to entice a teenage girl away from a week that will be rife with unsupervised freedom, questionable hookups, and enough blackmail material to last through college.
“Homework?” Lexy stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Did Skyla Messenger just choose homework over a vacation with the hot Olivers? I know for a fact that both Logan and Gage are in. The entire football team is going. The coach says it’s mandatory.
” She looks at Chloe. “Are we sure she wasn’t replaced by an alien? ”
“Maybe she’s just being practical.” Bree shrugs my way, looking just as confused as Lexy.
“Practical is my middle name,” I say, and honestly, I’m surprised lightning doesn’t strike me on the spot.
Chaotically Complicated would be more accurate as far as middle names go, and I think we all know it.
And if they don’t, they will soon enough.
The future’s so chaotic, they should all wear bulletproof vests around me. And maybe helmets, too.
Kate’s bottom lip trembles slightly. “But I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. I even bought these really cute pink thermal underwear.”
“Thermal underwear that no one will see.” Emily doesn’t miss a heartless beat.
“That’s not the point!” Kate wails. “The point is that it’s going to be an amazing bonding experience, and if Skyla thinks I shouldn’t go, then maybe there’s something wrong with me that I don’t know about.”
Oh, sweet heavens. Now I’ve made Kate question her entire existence over a trip that requires her to be trapped in a cabin with Chloe for seven days straight. That alone should have been a deterrent.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I say quickly. “It’s just—”
“Just what?” Chloe’s eyes glitter with malicious curiosity.
“Or are you just mad that for once, we might have fun without you there to suck all the oxygen out of the room with your constant need for male validation? Maybe you’re terrified Kate might actually get Gage’s attention when you’re not around to manipulate him.
Come on, Skyla. Share with the class. What exactly is this bad feeling about? ”
The way she says it makes it clear she thinks I’m either lying or losing my mind. Possibly both.
“It’s hard to explain,” I hedge. “Just a general sense of... you know, impending doom.”
“Impending doom,” Lexy repeats slowly. “About a ski trip. To a resort. With professional instructors and safety equipment?”
“Accidents happen,” I mutter.
“So do good times,” Michelle counters. “And I’ll be damned if I’m missing out on college boys and designer snow gear because Skyla has suddenly developed supernatural paranoia. Plus, Dudley will be there.”
Chloe scowls my way. “How convenient that your ‘bad feeling’ kicked in right after Kate offered to kiss whatever Gage wanted back at Rockaway. Your supernatural intuition has amazing timing, Messenger.”
She’s wrong. What Kate actually said was that Gage could kiss any part of her that he wanted.
But far be it from me to correct Chloe Bishop.
And truth be told, Kate is probably safer without me reminding Chloe about the misdemeanor that occurred.
Lord knows, Chloe can only take so many girls vying for her imaginary man.
Michelle snorts. “Skyla’s psychic powers run on batteries powered by jealousy.”
“Must be exhausting being that possessive,” Lexy adds flatly. “No wonder you’re always tired.”
Emily shrugs. “At least we know the rest of us are safe on the trip—Skyla’s only predicting doom for girls who go near Gage. I’d watch your back, if I were you, Kate.”
Okay, so I may have walked into that one. And it’s not Kate’s back she needs to worry about, it’s her head.
Before I can respond, Coach blows his whistle from across the field, signaling the end of football practice and more or less our practice, too.
The girls start gathering their gear, the ski conversation dissolving into the usual post-practice chatter about homework and weekend plans, which include sex with Dudley for most of these dingbats.
I watch them disperse through the thickening fog, and everything feels surreal and wrong, like I’m seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.
“Skyla.”
I turn to find Gage standing behind me, and my heart jumps the way it always does when he appears unexpectedly. His dark hair is damp from the fog, and there’s something in his expression that makes my insides clench with dread.
“We need to talk,” he says quietly.
“If this is about yesterday—”
“It’s not.” His voice is tight, controlled. “I had a vision.”
Those four words hit me like a brick to the forehead. Gage’s visions are rarely good news, and the way he’s looking at me suggests this one is particularly terrible.
“What kind of vision?”
He glances around to make sure we’re alone, then steps closer. “I saw Bree getting her head blown off with a ski. And I think the ski was attached to you.”
The world tilts sideways. “What? Did you say Bree?”
He nods. “On the ski trip. Something goes wrong, and you’re somehow involved, and Bree gets hurt. Badly hurt—as in meets her maker.” He shakes his head emphatically. “I can’t let that happen.”
I stare at him with my mind racing every which way. Another change. Another consequence of my presence here that could destroy someone I care about.
But that can’t really happen, can it? It’s never happened before. Why would it start now?
All the times Logan and I have done a little light driving, the times we went back to L.A. again and again to try to stop my father from dying. Nothing worked. Maybe I should worry less about Bree and worry far more for Kate.
“I wasn’t planning to go anyway,” I say weakly.
I can see the writing on the wall from here—my mother takes Logan and me back to the time and place where we belong, and the old version of me jumps at the chance to jump Gage Oliver’s bones up in the mountains.
Face it, the decapitation train left the station a long time ago.
But then, why does it feel as if the anchor Candace wanted me to set isn’t holding me in place—it’s dragging everyone I love into danger.
I need to get back to my own time before I accidentally figure out a way to destroy everything that matters.
I get the feeling some anchors aren’t meant to keep you safe—they’re meant to pull you under until you drown. And maybe drown the ones you love, too.