“BRAYDEN!” I EXCLAIMED as I saw him writhing in agony. Beside me, I heard Cait gasp in shock. I was surprised she’d noticed the tackle, even if it had happened right in front of us, since she’d been babbling on about something pointless. Classic Caitlyn.
As I looked down at Brayden, I didn’t stop to think—I just reacted, leaping out of my seat. All around me I could hear people shouting: “What happened?” “I think he’s hurt!”
But I ignored them all as I ran to the sideline, focused on him. Brayden’s face was twisted beneath his helmet, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Hold still,” I ordered him, grabbing his hand. “You don’t want to hurt yourself worse.”
What do you know? All those first aid lessons Mom had drummed into us over the years had stuck. I felt weirdly calm and in control.
Brayden gripped my hand so tightly his knuckles went white. “My leg,” he moaned.
I glanced at his leg and blanched. It didn’t look right—the lower part of the leg was twisting away at an odd angle. Oh, man. This couldn’t be good.
The player who’d tackled him was already on his feet, hovering nearby. “He okay?” he asked in a gruff voice. “I didn’t hit him that hard, I swear.”
“Stay still, okay?” I told Brayden again. “Help will be here soon.”
I had no idea if it was true, but Brayden seemed to believe it. His eyes popped open and fixed on me, glazed with fear but focused on my face.
“Th-thanks,” he mumbled, squeezing my hand even tighter.
I glanced from his earnest, pain-shrouded hazel eyes to our hands, which were locked together tightly—as if we never wanted to let each other go. . . .
And suddenly my brain jumped to another scene like this. One exactly like this.
No way. I had to be making it up. The stress must have affected me, let my imagination run wild. Right? Because it was as if that weirdo-freaky vision I’d had by the water fountain was coming true! Only instead of some romantic hand-holding scene, it was . . . this.
But it couldn’t be. I couldn’t handle this right now. I’d already lost my home, my friends, and my social standing. I couldn’t afford to lose my mind, too.
“Brayden!” A man skidded to his knees on Brayden’s other side. “Buddy, you okay?”
“I don’t think so, Coach,” Brayden burbled. “My leg—it hurts.”
I didn’t want to stick around to hear any more. As hard as it was to believe, only a couple of seconds had passed since I’d leaped onto the field. Adults were rushing toward us from every direction, cell phones in hand, shouting questions and instructions. I even heard the jingle of Ms. Xavier’s bracelets as she hurried over, announcing that she’d already called 911.
Yanking my hand free, I staggered away, sucking in a few deep breaths and trying to take in what had just happened. I was vaguely aware that Caitlyn was calling my name, though it seemed to be coming from far away. My head spun, and I couldn’t seem to stop gulping for air—I knew I needed to get away and calm myself down before I started screaming. Because what I was thinking was impossible. Totally, over-the-top crazy. It couldn’t have happened. I was just imagining things; that was all.
Now all I had to do was convince myself of that. . . .
Turning, I shoved my way through the throngs of people flocking toward Brayden. Once I was free I started to run, desperate to get away. I didn’t stop until I reached the restrooms behind the visitor-side bleachers.
I collapsed against the cool, solid concrete wall and slid down to the floor. “Wow,” I muttered aloud. “So much for that romantic moment . . .”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or burst into tears. What had happened back there? It went way beyond déjà vu. Because I knew exactly where I’d seen-felt-experienced that moment before.
But how? How could I possibly have seen something that hadn’t happened yet? For a second I thought about the other visions I’d had. Had any of them actually come true? I had no idea.
But this one had.
“No way,” I said, clenching my fists hard, my nails digging into my palms. “This so isn’t happening. . . .”
I sat there for a good fifteen minutes or so. My phone kept buzzing in my pocket, but I ignored it.
Finally, when it went off for the twentieth time, I yanked it out and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Cait: Where are you? We have to talk!
I wasn’t so sure. But I needed to talk to someone. We might not be BFFs anymore, but I’d always been able to trust her not to spill my secrets. Besides, she was almost as good as Mom at making me feel better when I was freaking out about something. And now? Yeah, I was definitely freaking out.
I texted back and she arrived minutes later, out of breath and wild-eyed. “Thank goodness!” she cried. “I didn’t know what happened to you. Why’d you run off like that?”
“Long story,” I said. “How’s Brayden?”
She grimaced and flopped down beside me. “They think his leg’s broken. The ambulance just got here. It’s taking him to the hospital over in Six Oaks. Everyone’s totally panicking since Brayden’s the quarterback and the home game against the Armadillos’ biggest rivals is next Saturday afternoon, and—”
“Cait. Chill,” I broke in, recognizing all the signs of a manic Caitlyn monologue. When my sister started talking all fast and excited like that, it was hard to get her to stop.
She blinked at me. “What? I was just saying—”
“I know,” I said. “But listen. You said we needed to talk. And you were right. Something weird has been happening.”
Suddenly her face went pale. “What do you mean, something weird?”
I peered at her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she shot back.
I took a deep breath, not quite meeting her eye. “Fine. Lately, I’ve been . . . seeing things. Like, things that aren’t really there.”
Pausing, I waited for her to laugh. Look confused. Make fun of me.
But she’d gone completely still. She was staring at me, her eyes as wide as all of Texas.
“Things?” she said after a second. “Like, what kinds of things?”
I shrugged. “Mostly stupid stuff— Wait . . . ?” My own eyes widened, mirroring her, as I got a sudden twitch of that twintuition the two of us used to joke about. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Looking at you like what?”
I gasped. “Oh my gosh—it’s been happening to you, too!”