Hopping up and down, I cheered too, hooting and hollering until my throat hurt.
Laverne waved Del and Samson into the dining room to join the party. Caught up in the excitement, they followed Nola as she waded through a sea of handshakes, fist bumps, and more group hugs from total strangers.
I stepped off the stage to follow too, but found my way blocked. Someone put a flower lei around my neck, making me a part of the Volcano Laverne’s family. Everyone wanted to congratulate Nola and tell her what an amazing job she’d done. By the time she reached a table that had enough seats for all of us, she wore three colorful leis around her neck and a plastic bachelorette-party cowboy hat with the words Bride’s Posse written on the front.
Nola may have felt like a pop star while she was singing, but now she was an honest-to-goodness hero; judging by the way she glowed, that felt ten times better. She’d gotten her standing ovation, and she’d gotten it for something she was really good at.
I reached the table seconds after Nola and the boys did, just in time to see the four veterans who had previously been seated there salute her. The vets moved to join another table, relinquishing command of their maple syrup and chili sauce.
Still shaking, Nola took a sip of someone else’s hot chocolate, then said: “That was amazing! But did you hear my voice when I was onstage? Wowza! I sound waaaay better in my bedroom, with my music turned up loud. Maybe I should become a doctor after all. I didn’t realize a bit of first aid could bring down the house.”
“You should keep singing too,” Samson said earnestly, nudging her awkwardly with his free elbow.
“Do you really think so?” Nola reached for Samson’s hand and laced her fingers through his, her eyes shining extra-bright. Samson shifted nervously in his seat, but his hand tightened around Nola’s fingers.
“Definitely,” he replied, nodding a few too many times. “I mean . . . you know, because you love doing it so much.”
Del raised a skeptical eyebrow and began to shake his head. He stopped when I kicked his leg under the table.
What would Nola become? I wondered. Would she be a doctor, a singer . . . a stunt car driver? I hoped she’d find a way to be everything she wanted to be. For the first time in months, I didn’t think about lowering my glasses to try to look into the future. Maybe it was better to see how things turned out as they turned out. Or maybe I was just too occupied watching Samson lean closer to Nola, and Nola lean closer to Samson, waiting for them to—
The crowd in the restaurant erupted into a second round of applause as Nola and Samson kissed.
Why hadn’t I seen that coming in any of my future visions?
Del grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser on the table and jokingly scrubbed his eyes. “Aw, man. I did not need to see that,” he said, laughing. “Somebody, please just blind me now.”
As if in response, the overhead lights flickered once . . . twice. A third flicker made the room fall silent. Then a collective cry went up as all of the lights went off. The evening’s Big Bad Storm had made one final huff-and-puff, taking the power out. Leaving everyone inside the restaurant fumbling in the dark.
MY ELDEST BROTHER, ROCKET, was fourteen years older than me. He had gotten his powerful electric savvy before I was even born. Power surges, smashed lightbulbs, and pitch-dark rooms had always been a part of my life. Blackouts didn’t frighten me.
As soon as the lights went out inside Volcano Laverne’s, everyone began to talk at once. Dim fluorescent emergency lights flashed on, casting eerie shadows across the carpeted walls. It wasn’t long before the murky room was alight and sparkling with the firefly glow of phones and tablets as people began to use them as lanterns and flashlights.
“Grandma Pat!” I said, suddenly remembering that we’d left her upstairs, alone with Tucker.
“Tucker!” said Samson. “I’m sorry, Gypsy. I told you I’d look after them.” I was sure Samson and I were picturing the same things: Tucker and Grandma upstairs without light or power; Tucker knocking over Laverne’s hula dancer lamp; someone stepping on Cap’n Stormy’s tail; Grandma Pat falling down Laverne’s steep stairway in the dark; Tucker getting scared—then huge.
“Nobody panic!” Laverne’s voice rang through the darkened restaurant, like she was talking directly to Samson and me. “Everybody, please. Just stay in your seats until we can get more light in here.”
“Let’s go,” I said. The others were already on their feet.
“We’ll follow you, Gypsy,” said Samson. I wasn’t sure why my brother put me in charge; maybe it was because I’d always seen things nobody else could see, and he thought I was the best person to find an invisible path in the dark. After all, I’d always been able to see him when he was invisible. Now I wondered if I’d merely been seeing where he was about to be, or where he’d just been. Showing signs of my savvy early, before I turned thirteen.
The four of us clasped hands to keep from getting separated, forming the links of a small human chain. I led the way around tables and chairs and people. But getting from one side of the restaurant to the other turned out to be more difficult than expected; despite Laverne’s instructions, nobody stayed seated.
In the time it took us to get to the stairs to Laverne’s apartment, Grandpa Bomba could’ve carved another president into the face of Mount Rushmore, using nothing but a toothpick, if he’d still been alive. With every winding step through the dark, I grew increasingly afraid that things upstairs were not as they should be. I was more certain than ever that I shouldn’t have let Grandma and Tucker out of my sight—again.
I was right. By the time we reached the top of the stairs, Tucker and Grandma Pat were gone.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I said, tearing off my rainbow-flower lei. Why did I keep letting Grandma get away from me?
“They have to be here somewhere,” Del tried to reassure me. We searched Laverne’s apartment quickly; it wasn’t big. There were few places where Tucker and Grandma could hide. We looked in the bathroom. The bedroom. Behind the sofa. Samson found a flashlight in a drawer in Laverne’s kitchenette, but we didn’t really need it. Grandma and Tucker had opened the blinds while we were downstairs. The apartment glowed bright with moonlight.
While Del and I continued the search upstairs, Samson and Nola ran back down to the restaurant with the flashlight, checking to see if Tucker and Grandma had rejoined the crowd when none of us were looking. They returned a few minutes later, panting from running up the stairs.
“We couldn’t find Mrs. B. or Big Tuck,” said Nola. “But it’s such a scene down there, I’m not sure we’d see them if they were standing right in front of us. We told Laverne they’re missing. She’s spreading the word. That squad of marines is getting people organized. They’re forming a search party as we speak. Are you guys having any luck, up—?”
Nola abruptly stopped speaking. I followed her gaze to see why.
Both she and Samson were staring out the windows like they’d been struck dumb by the beauty of the moon and the sight of the snow clouds blowing away to the east, revealing a sky full of stars. The lights of Denver had gone out. But it wasn’t the moon or the stars or the shadowy city that made Nola and Samson pause.
I stared out the windows. Not blinking. Not even breathing.
“Is that—?” Samson began. He trailed off, already knowing the answer to his unspoken question.
I nodded miserably. “It is. Grandma and Tucker must have pulled the blinds when the lights went out,” I said. “Grandma must have seen—”
I found my coat where I’d left it before going downstairs to play the tambourine. I fumbled through the contents of its pockets, pulling out empty candy wrappers and the invitation to Grandma’s high school dance.
With shaking fingers, I held the invitation out in front of me, comparing the architecture of the building engraved upon its face to the shape of the building
I could see clearly in the distance.
I tried to swallow but couldn’t. I felt like I was choking on one of Laverne’s short ribs.
I looked again at the image of the Larimer High School clock tower at the top of the invitation. Moving my eyes three inches to the right, I looked out the windows, seeing the ramshackle face of the actual, real-life clock tower. Its broken hands pointed just shy of midnight. The hands on my watch read 10:45. But the time no longer mattered.
What had I done? All I’d wanted was to keep Grandma safe. But everything I’d done that night had been for nothing. In the end, I’d delivered Grandma Pat straight to the front door of her doom. What good were visions of the future if I couldn’t change bad things before they happened? What good was stopping time, if I couldn’t stop Grandma from moving closer and closer to her fall?
“You don’t think—?” said Nola.
Next to me, Del nodded, still staring out the window. “We’re all thinking it.”
“Grandma Pat and Tucker are headed there,” I said, pointing to the clock tower. “They’ve gone to the high school. But how did they get out of the restaurant without us seeing them?”
“Here’s how,” said Samson. He pulled aside a wicker screen in the corner near the kitchenette, revealing a door. The door led to the fire escape we’d seen outside. Tucker and Grandma hadn’t closed the door all the way behind them. The crick of cold air that crept through it made my teeth chatter.
I was jamming my arms into the sleeves of my red coat, ready to plunge through the door and down the fire escape after Grandma and Tucker, when the apartment filled with people. A hardy quartet of youthful marines and a rusty trio of old veterans stormed into the room.
Whether we needed them or wanted them, reinforcements had arrived.
“OORAH!”
I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted an entourage of strangers joining our chase. On the one hand, our small, four-kid brigade was now a part of something bigger, a makeshift army of people bound together with one sole purpose: To find Grandma Pat and little Tuck, before anything bad could happen to them.
On the other hand, it was problematic—maybe even dangerous—to be surrounded by so many people. So many soldiers. The company that joined us now knew nothing about savvies, visions of the future, or little boys who could grow to colossal proportions.
I needed to keep it that way.
Earlier, I’d imagined working for the government as a way to help pay for the damage to Mrs. Kim’s car. I’d pictured myself using my savvy skills as a spy, or to stop bombs from exploding. But what would really happen if the military found out about my family and our unexpected talents? Would they try to turn my brothers into weapons? Would they control Tucker with rations of gummy bears, kittens, and face paints? Or would they lock us all up in Area 51 with the aliens, ready to study or dissect us?
Before we set off on our mission, Corporal Vasquez questioned me.
“It appears we’ve got a real soup sandwich on our hands, kid. Why do you think your brother and your grandmother are headed for the old high school? That building is dangerous. It should be demolished.”
I showed Vasquez the winter formal invitation. “Grandma Pat is sick. She thinks she’s still a teenager. She thinks she’s going to this dance.”
“How can you be sure? If she’s that ill, she could’ve wandered off in any direction. She could be walking around in circles!”
“You need to listen to my sister. She . . . er, knows things,” Samson answered carefully. He pulled me closer to him, ready to guard my six. Then he said, “When Gypsy is sure about something, she’s sure.” Samson shivered in the cold draft still slithering through the apartment. One of the veterans, a man too old and bent to join the rescue party, saw my brother preparing to brave the cold wearing nothing from the waist up but a T-shirt and gauzy leopard-print sling. He took off his army coat and handed it to Samson.
“Thank you, sir,” Samson accepted the coat with gratitude, pulling it around himself as best he could.
“Come on, people,” Del spoke up, trying to herd the rest of us out the door. “We need to go.”
“Yeah, we’re wasting time,” Nola added.
Time.
What was I going to do about time?
If I halted the ticking seconds now, Del and I could set off on our own. We could leave the soldiers and everyone else behind. But it wouldn’t help. My time-stops had no effect on Grandma Pat. She’d keep moving, all the way to the clock tower. She might even leave Tucker behind, wherever he happened to freeze. Then we’d all be scattered again.
Now it was my turn to shiver. Would this be Patrice Beaumont’s last night on Earth? Or would she and I get to share more birthdays?
Stopping Tucker and Grandma Pat from reaching Larimer High School was my number one priority. If the squad of soldiers wanted to help, I wasn’t going to stop them. Maybe I wouldn’t be alone in the end after all.
DOWN ON THE STREET, surrounded by tall buildings, I immediately lost sight of the high school. It didn’t matter; I knew where it was now. The marines appeared to know too. Grandma and Tucker had a head start, and even though they wouldn’t be moving fast, I knew from my vision that Grandma could and would get to the top of the clock tower. I knew Grandma Pat was going to fall, and that I had to be there to try to catch her when she did.
How could I explain that to Corporal Vasquez and the other marines and veterans who had come along?
A soldier who’d set off at a run in order to scout ahead soon called back over his shoulder. “I’ve got their tracks, Corporal.”
“Show me, Private Anderson!” Corporal Vasquez lifted her camouflaged knees high as she jogged through the snow. The rest of us ran behind her, trying our best to keep up.
Two sets of tracks lay ahead of us: Grandma’s shuffling Sorrell treads, and little Tuck’s tiny, hopping boot prints.
“We don’t need to follow their tracks,” I whispered to Samson. “We already know where Grandma and Tucker are going.”
“They don’t know about your savvy, Gypsy. They don’t share the faith I have in you and your visions.” After we’d hustled a few more yards, Samson surprised me by asking, “Do you miss them? Your old visions? Or do you like stopping time better?”
I didn’t answer right away. As we hurried after the soldiers, I took my glasses off to wipe away the fog from my labored breathing. I paused before returning them to my face—thinking maybe, if I tried hard enough, if I wished powerfully enough, I could get my savvy to switch back. I could find a way to look forward in time, just once more. To see what was going to happen next.
But I already knew, and that’s what frightened me.
“I’m not completely sure yet,” I told Samson as we made our way closer and closer to the high school. “I think I might like my new one better. What about you?”
Samson also hesitated before answering. Then, sounding almost embarrassed, he said, “I prefer my new one too. I never thought I could ever like being so . . . so bright. So seen. So—”
“So hot?” Nola teased. My brother’s face turned fire-engine red.
“You guys are nuts,” said Del. “If I had the chance to have amazing powers, I wouldn’t quibble over which one I liked best. I’d take anything.”
“What the—?” Ahead of us, Private Anderson stopped short, pointing at the two sets of footprints he’d been following. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say these smaller tracks are getting bigger.”
It was true. With each step forward, Tucker’s footprints grew larger and larger, and farther and farther apart. Three blocks south of Volcano Laverne’s, in the middle of the empty, snow-bound street, Grandma Pat’s prints disappeared altogether, baffling the band of military trackers. It wasn’t long before just one of Tucker’s boot prints was big enough for six soldiers to stand in, all of them shaking their heads in disbelief.
> “Who are we following?” asked one of the old men. “Paul Bunyan?”
Unlike the soldiers, I could easily guess what had happened. Somehow, for some reason, Tucker had gotten big, Big, BIG. Bigger than he’d ever grown before. Then he’d picked up Grandma Pat to carry her over the snow. It was the only thing that could explain the tracks.
I pictured Grandma Pat sitting criss-cross-applesauce on Tucker’s giant palm, like he was King Kong and she was his damsel in distress. I hoped Grandma Pat was holding Cap’n Stormy, and that the kitten wasn’t clinging by her teeny-tiny claws to Tucker, a burr stuck inside the lining of his winter coat.
“I-I think we must have lost them somehow, Corporal,” Private Anderson said. Looking around, he took off his cap and scratched his head. “Maybe this is where the kid turned into Bigfoot. Ha-ha!” Nobody laughed at Private Anderson’s joke.
Samson shot me a worried look. But I knew we couldn’t fret about savvy secrets now, or stand around while the soldiers scratched their bums and britches. The clock hands high up on the high school may have been permanently stuck at eleven fifty-eight, but that didn’t mean we needn’t hurry.
Pushing through the snow, I crossed the street, jogged on, then crossed another, leaving the others to follow me. With the rest of the search party on my six, I rounded a corner, waiting for my hulking little brother to appear before me at any moment.
“There it is,” Del said, reaching my side just as I looked up and saw the high school.
Surrounded by a bent and drooping fence of chain link and barbed wire, the decrepit building stood four stories tall beneath the clock tower. The tower itself added another twenty feet. The doors and first-floor windows were boarded over with graffiti-covered plywood, and plastered with orange signs that read DANGER: NO TRESPASSING. Burdened with heavy swags of snow, veiny tendrils of winter ivy twisted and twined over the bricks of the upper stories. All of the upper-story windows were smashed and broken, leaving dark spaces and eerie, gaping holes.