Gasp (Visions) - Lisa McMann Page 0,55
his side in the dark, his face lit up by his phone, refreshing the news.
I stand in front of him. He doesn’t look at me.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
His eyes twitch. His bottom lip quivers and then is still. Without a word, he opens up his arms, and I sit on the edge of his bed, and he holds me.
After a minute, he sits up and rubs his bleary eyes. And then he sighs. “It’s not your fault.”
I remain silent.
“If they’re together, they’re alive,” he says after a while. “Ben is a lifeguard. Lifeguards don’t drown. Even if that’s not true, I have to believe it.”
I swallow hard. I don’t know how anybody could have survived out there. “Ben has his phone, right?” I say. “Sawyer doesn’t.” He broke his promise, and now he doesn’t have his phone.
“I think so.” Trey looks at me. “What about Tori?”
I shrug. “I have a million texts from her. I haven’t even started to read them.”
“But wouldn’t she know?”
“Know what?”
“Doesn’t the vision change as the thing happens? Didn’t you see body bags disappearing?”
I blink. And then I’m calling her, unable to breathe.
“Jules!” she says. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Tori, listen to me. How did the vision change at the end? How many dead?”
“I texted you everything,” she says. “Only three bodies.”
“Who were they?” My throat constricts. I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t get an answer immediately.
“I don’t know—everything was dark in the vision at the end. I could only see dark shapes under the water.”
“Can you pull it up and look at it? Get a closer look?” I ask, but I know the answer already.
“It’s over, Jules,” Tori says softly. “I can’t. It’s done.”
Trey grips my hand.
“Sawyer and Ben are . . . missing,” I say. “And I’m just wondering . . . do you think any of the bodies . . .”
She is silent. In shock. “I don’t know. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
I close my eyes. “Nothing. Just . . . send good thoughts. Or pray, or whatever you do.”
She says something else comforting, but I don’t comprehend it. “I can’t talk right now,” I say. I hang up. I never want to talk to her again. And then I look up at Trey.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I’m just so sorry.” The word drags itself from my gravelly throat and comes out like an oath. “I’m so angry . . . at myself. What was I thinking? How could I drag everybody into this? What the hell is wrong with me, Trey?”
He stares at a spot on the carpet for a long moment. And then he says, “You didn’t drag anybody into this. We came willingly, knowing what could happen. You aren’t in control of this thing.” He looks up. “So if you’re going to be mad at anybody, be mad at Dad. If he started it, then this is all his fault.”
Forty-Seven
We want to stay home from school and stare at our phones, waiting for word, but we’re already potentially in enough trouble. And really, if Sawyer or Ben calls, I have no problem barreling out of whatever class I’m in to answer him. So we go to school. By the time first hour is over, Sawyer and Ben have been missing for twelve hours.
I hear a few people talking about the ferry wreck, but there’s no mention of Sawyer. People don’t know he’s missing . . . or possibly dead. And I don’t want them to know. Because today, this grief belongs to me. And I don’t want anybody infiltrating it with their fake-ass, disgusting bullshit.
After psych, Mr. Polselli asks me if I’m feeling all right. I don’t want to cry, so I just nod and take off. At lunch Rowan sits with Trey and me at our usual table. We all look haggard and feel worse. My body is sore and I have bruises in weird places.
We can’t seem to stay off our phones, checking the news, checking Chicago social media reports, seeing if Kate has heard from Sawyer, and both Trey and I get yelled at more than once in sculpting class. We accomplish nothing.
Trey checks the news once more in class and whispers, “There’s a press conference scheduled with some new information. Three bodies pulled from the water.”
My stomach drops. Before I can reply, Ms. White, the art teacher, walks over to our table and holds out her hands. “Hand them over.”
I look up