Gasp (Visions) - Lisa McMann Page 0,64

says again. More hollering.

I walk over to the window to watch Rowan and my parents dig up the lawn for a garden. “What the heck is happening to us?” I mutter.

Bridget comes back. “Okay, my parents said we can bring it over tonight. Text me your address when we hang up.”

I’m confused, and then I realize she means for me to text it to Sawyer’s phone. “Sounds great,” I say.

“Okay, bye.”

Before I can ask if her family is okay, she hangs up.

I text my address to Sawyer’s phone for Bridget, and then text Kate to see if Sawyer is with her.

A minute later Sawyer calls me from Kate’s phone. “What’s up?”

“Bridget is coming to my house to bring your phone back. Can you come over?”

“How excellent. I was just missing you enough to come over anyway. Yeah, I’ll be there in a few.”

I smile. “Cool. Also. My dad just told me he thinks you’re okay.”

“Well.” He sounds pleased. “That’s something.”

• • •

When Sawyer arrives, we sit on the front steps waiting for Bridget. Rowan comes around the house and sits with us. Her hands are dirty.

“Dad thinks you need to see a therapist,” she announces. She looks at her dirty fingernails and scowls. “Yick. What a mess.”

“Great,” I say. “Well, at least I finally got a straight answer out of him. He says he’s never seen a vision.”

Sawyer turns, a consternated look on his face. “Is he telling the truth?”

“I think so.”

“Whoa,” Rowan says.

“I know.” I stare at the ants digging a home in the crack in the sidewalk. “So I don’t know what this means, except that I really did start it. I can’t blame it on anybody else.” I pause, and then I say decisively, “But the ferry was the last straw. We’re done. I’m done. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t go through this anymore.” I sigh, thinking about the prospects. “Besides, I can’t track down twenty-four strangers to see who might be next. I’m just . . . I’m so fuh-rucking tired of it,” I say. My eyes burn and I press the palms of my hands against them. “I can’t do it anymore.”

Sawyer pulls me close and kisses the side of my head. “You’re right,” he says softly. “It’s too dangerous. Whatever this is, it’s bigger than us. It’s out of our control. And contrary to my statement several days ago, after going through that ferry ordeal I no longer believe we are invincible.”

“So . . . we’re done?” Rowan says.

I nod. “We’re done. I’m calling it. It’s over.”

It’s a relief to say it. Rowan texts Trey to let him know our decision, and he replies: Aw, shucks. I want to see how many more ways we can DIE. Then he follows up with: Secretly, good call.

We sit in silence, contemplating everything we’ve been through, when a car drives up. It occurs to me that it would be awkward if my parents witnessed this exchange, so I stand up and walk to the car. Sawyer and Rowan follow.

The parents get out, and then Bridget does too, slower, using her crutches. She’s wearing new retro cat-eye glasses.

“I’m Alan Brinkerhoff,” Bridget’s dad says. “This is my wife, Emily, and I think you know Bridget.” Bridget waves awkwardly, acting shy in the presence of her parents.

He reaches out to shake our hands.

“I’m Jules,” I say, deciding there’s no need for last names on our end—anonymous is a better way to go. “This is Sawyer, and this is Rowan.”

“We want to thank you,” Mrs. Brinkerhoff says, “for helping Bridge. I still don’t know how we got separated. When I realized she wasn’t with us, I nearly gave up. Everybody was shoving and pushing . . .” She shakes her head, remembering.

“No problem,” Sawyer says. “She was really brave. I’m sure her jump into the water hurt really bad with that ankle.”

Bridget’s ivory cheeks turn red. She reaches into the backseat of the car and holds out Sawyer’s life vest. “Here ya go,” she says, shoving it at him. She reaches back in again and hands him his cell phone and the charger.

Sawyer looks puzzled. “I didn’t have my charger with me,” he says.

“I know,” Bridget replies, “but you bought one later with your twenty bucks.”

“I see,” Sawyer says.

I grin. “Thanks for driving it all the way over here. Do you guys live nearby?”

“No,” Mr. Brinkerhoff says. “We live in Michigan, but we come to Chicago every now and then.”

“I have cancer,” Bridget says matter-of-factly. “I go to the University