Gasp (Visions) - Lisa McMann Page 0,47

explore outside, and find a cool little hot dog shop nearby for a cheap lunch. Apparently we look old enough, or confident enough, not to be questioned about being there on a school day.

While we eat, we can hear thunder rolling in the distance. Sawyer takes a look out the window at the darkening skies and decides against finishing his second dog in case the ride to Milwaukee is rough.

Fat drops of rain hit the ground as we walk back to the terminal. We go over everything we know for the thousandth time, trying to figure out where we went wrong and what obvious clue we’re missing. I wish I could see the vision just a few times. It’s so frustrating having to rely on Tori to look for all the clues. What if she’s the one who is missing something? What if she doesn’t know what to look for? What if she misinterpreted something? All I know is that we’re either doing something very, very wrong, or this thing is happening tomorrow, or maybe the next day. Yet . . . we can’t keep riding this ferry forever, trying to figure it out.

• • •

Rowan calls Mom to let her know we’ll be home late tonight. And finally the afternoon ferry pulls in. We watch the stream of passengers get off, and then wearily we board the ferry for the two-and-a-half-hour ride to Milwaukee.

Sawyer takes his Dramamine before he feels sick this time, which should help him. He holds me close and I manage to fall asleep to the sound of driving rain hitting the windows. The rocking is almost soothing, since I know Sawyer won’t let me fall. I drift into a hard nap and dream about Tori sinking under murky waves.

When I hear Rowan saying my name, and I feel her tugging at my arm, I have to struggle to wake up, and I can’t remember where I am.

“Jules!” she says. And soon Sawyer is joining in.

I open my eyes and stare at the strange surroundings for a moment before I remember. “What’s up?” I say. My voice sounds like it’s far away. I sit up a little and see enormous waves rolling around the ferry, lightning streaking through the sky, and nervous passengers staring out the windows.

Everybody’s looking at me. “What?” I say again. I look at Sawyer. “Are you sick?”

“Jules,” Trey says, “did you hear the announcement?”

“What?”

“The pilot just came on the loudspeaker. He said there are tornado warnings in Milwaukee, and marine warnings for waterspouts all along the Wisconsin shoreline.”

“Waterspouts?” I blink. “Okay. How far away are we?”

“We’re an hour from Milwaukee and the storm supercell is heading straight toward us, so the pilot says we’re being diverted to a different port and buses will take everybody back to Milwaukee.” His face is intense. “We’re being diverted to Chicago, Jules. We’re turning south right now, and we’re heading for Chicago.”

Forty-One

At first I can’t comprehend what Trey is saying. The ferry lurches and rolls as the waves get bigger. “But the sun won’t be right if it happens now,” I say.

“I know, but maybe the ferry leaves from Chicago tomorrow morning,” he says.

“Yeah,” Sawyer says, sitting up. “That would put the ferry in the right place!”

“Hey, guys?” Ben says.

I close my eyes to concentrate. “But . . . but the passengers will still show up at the Milwaukee terminal—how would any of them know—”

“Because they can send an e-mail to everybody who pre-bought tickets to let them know of the change due to the weather,” Trey says.

“Guys?” Ben says again.

I am still not sold. “Why wouldn’t they just sail the ferry back to Milwaukee tonight after the storms pass?”

“Guys,” Rowan says this time.

We all look at her and Ben.

“What?” Trey says impatiently.

Rowan looks sidelong across the ferry and points her head in the direction she wants us to look. “There’s the guy who is on the list. The one who rode with us this morning.”

I narrow my eyes. “I thought you weren’t sure.”

“We weren’t sure,” Ben says, “until now, when we also spotted that girl sitting at ten o’clock to you, Jules.” He shows me the victim list and points. “This girl,” he says, “is her.”

“And,” Rowan continues, “I see two more. No, make that three.”

I follow her gaze as I watch a woman lurch toward the bathroom. “No,” I say, and then I grab the list and compare Tori’s descriptions with the people Ben and Rowan are pointing out. A girl about thirteen with