Mason examined the skid marks. Short, staccato marks. The brakes didn’t lock. That was a good sign.
Reluctantly, he jogged back across Douglas Avenue and focused on the vision as it filled his mind. The driver, probably in her early thirties, was watching the road; she wasn’t fiddling with her phone or Chapstick. She was simply driving down the side street when the child ran out from between two parked cars after a soccer ball. The woman braked in time, only running over the soccer ball, which lodged in the undercarriage of her Highlander.
Mason squatted in the grass, his head in his hands, thankful that the child hadn’t been hit. He wanted to vomit. The too-familiar mix of fear and panic gripped his stomach. Addie was the only person who listened to him when he talked about the tire marks, even if she thought it was a joke. She’d been an outlet for all the stress the visions caused, and the tire marks gave them something to talk about when her world seemed far from his. Now, he realized, their worlds were actually going to be far from each other. And when she left, he’d once again have no one to talk to about the skid marks.
For the rest of the run, Mason fixated on his regular mental rant.
What’s the purpose of all these visions? They’ve haunted my mind since I was a child, and they do nothing but derail my thoughts and terrorize me.
If they were supposed to be some type of learning experience, Mason had learned enough. He didn’t need to see children almost getting hit by vehicles to know he should keep his eyes on the road. And he most certainly didn’t need to see Declan’s reckless driving to know he was a jerk.
Mason reached home to find Addie sitting on the steps of his front porch, talking on the phone. He smiled and waved as he pulled his backpack from her Jeep, happy to have his thoughts focused back on her. She held up a finger and motioned for him to wait. He stretched out on the grass and strained to hear if she was talking to one of her friends, if she told them about her move.
“You suck at eavesdropping; did you know that?” she said when she hung up.
“What are you talking about?” he said with a smirk. “You’re sitting on my stairs. I’m just stretching in my yard.”
“Your neck. A dead giveaway. You couldn’t have stretched that more if you tried.” Addie patted the step next to her. “How was your run? You look like crap.”
“Thanks. Typically, I try not to break a sweat. I don’t know what got into me.”
Addie pointed toward the Jeep. “You got all your stuff?”
“Yeah. Who were you talking to?” Mason asked again as he sat across from her.
“Sophie—she wanted to get together tonight. She’s dying to know what’s going on.”
“Are you going to see her?”
“No. I told her I had to visit my—” Addie held out a hand, inviting Mason to finish her sentence.
“Grandmother.” He smiled. “Thought I heard something about that. Did you tell her that I’m free?”
“You wish!” Addie leaned over and smacked Mason on the arm, then wiped the sweat off her palm. “Gross.”
“How did you hold up today?” Mason asked.
“It was hard. I couldn’t focus on anything long enough to even register how much the day sucked.” Addie shook her head. “I’m glad it’s the weekend.”
“I don’t know how you did it. Grace stalked me in P.E. and demanded I tell her what was going on with you. She’s ruthless, but don’t worry. I didn’t cave, even when she threatened to spike the volleyball in my face.”
Mason hoped the joke would make Addie laugh, but it didn’t.
“Yeah, I think she was kind of pissed that I wouldn’t tell her what’s going on.”
“Hey, let’s go around back,” Mason said. “This cement is too uncomfortable to sit on.”
“If you wore longer shorts, you wouldn’t have a problem. What’s with running shorts anyway?”
“Have you ever chaffed? Then you’d know.”
“TMI, Mason!”
They walked around back, and Mason dropped his backpack on his deck before they headed to the swing.
“You know, I think I finally figured out why the drama group keeps breaking into tears every time they see each other,” he said. “Have you listened to people in the halls?”
“Please don’t try to explain why the drama kids act the way they do,” Addie said. “That’s going too far.”
“I think I’ve been brainwashed by all the end-of-the-year-love,” he joked.
Addie sat on the swing, and Mason pushed her lightly from behind.
“Really, though. Thanks for covering for me today. I’ll tell them tomorrow. Right now, I can’t talk about it or even think about it without crying.”
Mason could tell by the slight quaver in her voice that her eyes were already filling.
“How did you not tell them today?” he asked. “All they had to do was look at you to know something was up.”
Mason sat on the ground near Addie’s feet, just as he had the night before.
“They asked, sure.” Addie wiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffled. “I told them I wasn’t ready to talk. I mean, I don’t want to tell them at school. They probably think my parents are fighting again or something.”
That was all she was probably capable of explaining. The day had to have been hard. Mason figured Declan hadn’t pushed Addie—he would’ve let it go and moved on to thinking about himself—but Sophie, Becca, and Grace weren’t people to let things go. Addie’s puffy eyes would’ve been an invitation to probe, and if they hunted Mason down in P.E., they definitely drilled her.
“How am I even going to tell them?” Addie finally said. “They’ll freak. Do you think they’ll be mad that I didn’t tell them right away?”
“Depends. Are you talking about your friends or Declan?”
“Please!” Addie kicked him, but he caught her foot and used it to swing her side-to-side. “Of course, I’m talking about my friends.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t tell them that you told me,” Mason said. “They might be hurt by that.”
“True.”
“But feel free to tell Declan that you told me,” he added.
“Ha!” Addie leaned back, holding on to the ropes, and looked at the cloud puffs floating by. “What happened between you two? You used to be friends.”
“The more interesting question is why do you like him?”
“I told you. He’s changed. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying to figure himself out. He was super bummed when he didn’t get scouted to play D1, and that humbled him.”
Mason snorted.
Addie sat up abruptly and her hair tumbled into her face as she looked at him. “How can you not see it?”
“Humility and Declan have never been friends. He’s as arrogant as ever. And his laugh? It’s a guffaw! Who laughs like that?”
“Who says guffaw?”
“It’s like he wants everyone to hear him laughing.”
“You’ve never liked him, not since you were kids.”
“There’s a reason I haven’t liked him since we were kids. I’ve never looked at him the same since he intentionally hit Ethan in the face with a baseball.”
Mason leaned back against the tree, remembering all the blood when the baseball shattered the kid’s nose. Declan hadn’t looked surprised that he’d hit Ethan. Instead, he smirked.
“Sure, Declan said it was an accident,” Mason said, the image still running through his head. “But Ethan was a better pitcher than Declan, and Declan doesn’t like it when people are better at something than he is.”
“That was so long ago,” Addie said. “He’s not that jealous now. And he doesn’t act like he does around everyone else when it’s just the two of us.”
“I bet he doesn’t. Please don’t tell me he’s romantic. I’d know you’re full of it.”
Addie leaned back again, lifting her feet into the air and pumping her legs. “You only see one side of him. He can be really sweet.”
“I’m sure… when he wants something.”
“Don’t be a pig,” Addie said. “I think the end of senior year is getting to you. That or this whole Tahoe-pocalypse is.”
“Tahoe-pocalypse? I thought it was Ta-hoax.” Mason chuckled. “I won’t try to understand what you see in Declan if you promise not to talk like the school newspaper staff.”
Addie dragged her feet on the ground to stop herself and leaned toward him, lips pursed. “I spent the whole day trying to think of that one after you shot down Ta-hoax. I need a name for this disaster my parents have created.”
Mason couldn’t help but laugh at her serious tone.
“Really, though,” she said, lightening up. “Doesn’t it sound catchy? Tahoe-pocalypse. Say it.”
“Sounds overly dramatic.”
“And guffaw isn’t?” Addie kicked dirt toward him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone actually use that word.”
“Just listen the next time he laughs,” Mason said, rolling his eyes. “When other people are around, not when it’s just the two of you and he’s being all ‘sweet and romantic.’ Listen to him laugh. Then you’ll be saying guffaw, too.”
The back porch light came on at Addie’s house. Her mom stood at the door, cupped her hands over her eyes, and peered out. Addie didn’t say anything, but her back noticeably tensed.
“You could tell your friends tonight,” Mason said. “I’m sure you could still get together with Sophie.”
Before Addie could respond, her mom opened the back door, and the jangle of Indy’s collar rang out as she ran from Addie’s yard to Mason’s.
“Come here, Indy,” Addie called. She turned back to Mason. “I’m too exhausted to see Sophie tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I don’t know.”
Indy, a black lab mix, ran up and poked Addie’s leg with her nose, her way of demanding Addie scratch behind her ears. When Addie got the dog as a birthday present when she was ten, Indy became the leader of Mason and Addie’s summer adventures. Even now, Addie joked about Indy trying to herd her to bed or pushing the bathroom door open to find her.
After checking on Addie, Indy turned her attention to Mason. She licked his face, and when he tried to push her away, she started licking his legs.
“I think Indy missed you,” Addie joked.
“I think Indy likes dried sweat.” Mason stood to escape the dog. “Scoot over. You need to save me from this beast.”
Addie made room for him on the wooden seat. “She’s harmless. Aren’t you, girl?” Addie leaned down and patted Indy on the head.
Mason thought, a bit too late, about how bad he must smell. Sitting so close to Addie was not a good idea. When he was younger and his feet didn’t touch the ground, sitting side-by-side wasn’t a problem.
“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Addie went on, ignoring Mason’s shifting in the seat. “I should’ve texted my friends as soon as my dad made his little declaration. But I just couldn’t. I don’t know. It seemed like if I did, then it would be real. Like I would be letting it happen.”
“But there isn’t anything you can do.”
“I know. I just didn’t want to believe it was going to happen. I still don’t want to believe it.”
“Maybe it isn’t,” Mason offered and immediately regretted it.
“You think?” The pitch of Addie’s voice raised in hope.
“Yeah.” He looked at his running shoes as he toed the dirt. “Maybe your dad is zombie-possessed, and he wants to lure you and your mom away from civilization.”
Addie nudged him with her elbow, and he pretended that she knocked him off the swing. He stood, happy for a reason to get his smelly self away from her.
“He’s totally zombie-possessed,” Addie said. “But I don’t think that’ll stop him. I’ll tell my friends tomorrow. Today was hard enough.”
“I can’t believe Sophie didn’t drive right over here after school.”
“She knows me better than that,” Addie said. “She’s giving me space.”
“The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be.”
“Yeah, I know. What’s that saying about pulling off a Band-Aid?”
Mason sat down and petted Indy as she licked his legs. “I have no clue. I’m too tough for Band-Aids,” he joked.
“Yeah, right. Well, I’ll get it over with tomorrow.”
“Look, I know you know.” Mason leaned his back against the tree and looked at Addie. “But you can text me anytime.”
“Thanks,” Addie said. “You’ve been a lifesaver.”
“After you tell your friends, you’ll all hang out for the rest of the weekend and cry together. And, if you feel like it, you can tell them how cool and supportive I’ve been. Maybe Sophie’ll want to go on a date with me after all.”
Addie got up and tousled Mason’s hair. “In your dreams. You are so not her type.”
Mason grabbed his heart in mock agony. “Don’t crush my hopes. I’m fragile.”
“Fragile.” Addie laughed. “And too tough for Band-Aids?”
“You might as well give them plenty of time to plan your going-away party,” Mason said.
A slight smile tugged at the corners of Addie’s mouth, and it probably wasn’t because she wanted a going-away party or even liked to party. She was most likely thinking the same thing Mason was—that her friends would go overboard planning her going-away party. Sophie and Becca, in particular, were iconic at West High for hyper-planning decorations for the homecoming dances and the Varsity Club parade floats.
“It will all be okay, right?” With this question, with her gaze, Addie seemed to mean more than just telling her friends. She meant the entire move.
“Yes,” Mason said, trying to sound like he believed it.
“Thanks.”
Mason pushed Indy away from him. “I don’t think I need a shower now. Your dog has cleaned me.”
“Not quite. You definitely stink.” Addie flashed a smile and walked back to her house, Indy loping behind her.