Chapter 4

By sophomore year, Ty and I had reached what was probably the most serious point in our relationship as a couple. Unfortunately, at the same time, our friendship was dying a slow and miserable death.

Ty was well over six feet tall by then, and I hadn’t grown an inch — at least not in height. He was lanky and not particularly fit, and after an embarrassing first season of water polo, he became obsessed with ultimate Frisbee instead. He played video games rather than reading books now and he only rarely played guitar, since when he and I were alone together he had other ideas besides singing. We still hung out with friends and went on the occasional hike with Matt, but as soon as Ty turned sixteen he started working, which drastically cut down on his free time.

By the end of that year it seemed like all we ever did together was watch TV and make out. We never did silly, fun stuff anymore, like write alternative lyrics to our favorite tunes or create funky avatars or make videos of tacky tourists. We hardly ever even talked anymore, and that bothered me. But Ty could read my moods pretty well, and he always seemed to know when I was reaching my limit of annoyance. So just when I got ready to tell him things had to change, he would pull out his guitar and serenade me. Or worse yet, he would write me a poem. Yes, he actually did that. The guy with the big brown puppy-dog eyes wrote me poems! So you can see what I was up against. He would look at me all weepy and contrite and assure me of his undying love and promise me he would never make me feel like an emotionally neglected tool ever again. He just wanted me to understand how difficult life was for him, and that by the way, things would be instantly perfect between us if only I would…

Yeah, no. I loved Ty, or at least I thought I did, but I knew that our relationship wasn’t going right, and I wasn’t buying what he was selling for the solution. At some level, I knew that whatever he told me, he was really only thinking about himself — and I intended to think about myself. I didn’t want to get in any deeper than I already was, not when I was so unsure about the direction we were headed. But I didn’t want to break up with him, either. We had so much history together… so much time invested. I thought maybe he just needed to grow up a little more. Then, I told myself, things would get better.

Right?

I got Warning number five on a Saturday that spring of sophomore year. Ty was either working or playing ultimate that day, I have no idea which. But since the water polo season had just ended and I was free all day with no boyfriend, I decided to go surfing with my brother and his friends. Peter was a senior that year and would be going to college on the mainland in the fall, so all that spring and summer he surfed every chance he got. There wasn’t much that Peter and I did together (we have very different personalities; and to be honest, my brother is seriously dull), but he was always really good about letting me tag along when he surfed. So the three guys and I piled into my mom’s SUV, tied our boards to the roof rack, and headed to Waikiki.

The best town breaks were always packed with tourists, but spring wasn’t quite as bad as summer, and we went early to avoid the worst of it. Peter’s friend Noah, who was born in Honolulu, was not only a good surfer himself, but he was super patient and actually liked teaching the sport. So by that year Peter was pretty good, and I was what you’d call “passable.” I’m sure I looked ridiculous, but the feel of catching a wave under my board was always such a rush, I totally didn’t care. (FYI, Peter’s other guy friend was worse than me, so that helped.)

I took Noah’s extra surfboard, not having one of my own, and paddled out. It was a beautiful, clear, crisp morning, the water was warm, and as I gazed over at the impressive volcanic crater of Diamondhead, I wished for the thousandth time that I could share moments like this with my boyfriend. But I could never get Ty to go surfing with me. He had various excuses for why he didn’t like it, but the heart of the matter was that he wasn’t a strong swimmer. Despite how easy it looks when you only watch videos of people standing up on a board, surfing takes strong arms. It takes a whole lot of paddling to get where you need to be over and over again, and if you lose your board it can be a real pain getting back in. Lucky for me, I’d always been a good swimmer, had always practiced laps, and — two glorious benefits of my body type — I had a low center of gravity and ample “buoyancy.” Huzzah!

The waves were not particularly fantastic on that day, but I remember that I was enjoying myself because I was wiping out less than usual and the weather was so perfect. It had been over a year since my last miserable experience with The Warning, and with my busy life tearing on at warp speed, it seemed more like a hundred. That’s why, when I got to my feet on a particularly nice little wave and noticed that the surfer riding into the beach on the swell ahead of me was sepia-toned, I told myself it was the sun in my eyes.

I blinked and gave my head a shake. Then I looked at him again. He was a middle-aged man, medium height, solid but not fat, and bald except for a beard. His shoulders, neck, and arms were elaborately tattooed. What color any part of him was in real life, I had no idea, because in my eyes his boardshorts, skin, and hair constantly cycled through an array of washed-out reds, browns, and oranges. When I realized that blinking my eyes hadn’t fixed the problem, my heart began to race.

Oh, God, no. Not again!

Before I knew what was happening my board had turned and I’d fallen sideways into the ocean. My mouth filled with saltwater and curses and I sputtered to the surface, grabbed my board, and tried to locate the surfer again. He was still upright, nearly at the beach now. If he planned to keep surfing, he would have jumped off already and paddled back out. Since he appeared to be riding the wave all the way in to shore, it probably meant he was done.

I lay down on my board and paddled after him.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. Unlike Ty, I was not very good at advance planning. But also unlike Ty, who made up a different ten-year plan for his life every three days, when I made up my mind to do something, I damn well went ahead and did it. I was determined to try and change the man’s destiny, and whatever I thought of when I got there I would have to roll with. This time, there would be no regrets.

The sepia-toned surfer reached the shallows and started walking. Another man approached him from the beach, and when they met they stood still a moment, talking. The weird colors came and went, being absent more than they were present. I paddled with the waves to beach myself as quickly as possible, being sure not to lose sight of him. I was relieved that he never flashed light and dark. That horror, at least, he seemed to be spared.

As I drew near, he and the other man parted ways. “Excuse me!” I called as I splashed out of the water carrying my board. “Excuse me, sir? Wait up!” The man had to think I was a lunatic. And why shouldn’t he? I was going to tell him something completely insane. For him to dismiss me as a weirdo would be a best-case scenario. If he really got irritated with me, he could squash me like a bug. Up close and personal, I could see that I had underestimated the guy’s brawn. He was built like a friggin’ tank.

He turned around and looked at me curiously. His eyes shimmered a scary red color, then turned a soft brown.

Holy crap, this was nuts.

I tried to slow my breathing, but decided it was a lost cause. I was both scared to death and weary from my burst of quick paddling. “I know you’ve never seen me before in your life and this is going to sound totally crazy.” Heave, wheeze, heave, wheeze. “But I have this weird thing where sometimes I get a warning when someone is… in trouble. And sometimes it’s complete strangers and I don’t understand it and I don’t have any control over it.” Gasp, pant. “And I hate to come out of nowhere and scare you but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you that I think you’re in danger, because it’s happened to me four times now and every other time it’s been right!” Heave, wheeze, gasp.

The man continued to stare at me. At any second, I expected the creases of confusion in his forehead to turn into a sarcastic smirk, followed by a cynical laugh. Or maybe a scowl and a curse. Perhaps, if he was a real jerk, I’d get flipped off and shouted at.

I got none of the above. He took the board that was under his arm, planted it in the sand, and spoke to me in a low, quiet voice. “What kind of trouble?”

I sucked in a huge breath, held it for a moment, then released it with a shudder. The man’s expression was entirely serious. Of all the scenarios I’d thought of, I’d never even considered this one. He actually believed me!

Now how did I answer his question? “I… I don’t know exactly,” I stammered. It was a lie, and I felt guilty. Why was I doing this if I didn’t have the courage to be truthful with him?

“Yes, you do,” he said, holding my gaze. “Tell me.”

I couldn’t find the words.

“Look,” he said with frustration. “You came up to me, didn’t you? I know enough about this stuff not to ignore it. If you want to help me out here, tell me what you know!”

“I see changing colors over people who are likely to die soon,” I blurted, feeling like every word was a dagger in the man’s heart. “And a flashing of people who are very close to death. I don’t see the flashing with you,” I said quickly. “So whatever’s going on, we’re not talking hours. But aside from that, I don’t know. It could be days, or weeks. One time it was a month. One person took his own life. So it could be avoidable! That’s why I’m telling you. I don’t believe it has to happen. I just want you to know so that you can be careful — so you can stop it.”

His brown eyes swirled orange, then back to brown again. He looked sad. Desperately, horribly sad. What had I done? What if I was wrong? “Please say something,” I begged.

He glanced over my shoulder. Then he picked his board up and tucked it back under his arm. I followed his gaze and saw that the man he’d just been talking to was approaching again, this time with his own board in tow. Clearly, they were ready to leave.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, turning away from me. “Thanks for saying something.” He started walking toward his friend.

I stood there unable to answer. You’re welcome seemed lame, so I kept my mouth shut. I looked out over the surf and realized that my brother’s friend Noah had paddled halfway in after me, no doubt wondering why I was talking to a middle-aged stranger on the beach. I waved to let him know all was well, then started wading into the ocean. When I looked back over my shoulder, I could see the two men walking away. They were at that moment looking at me, too. The sepia-toned man was pointing me out to the other one.

I felt jittery. Spent. And of course, slightly ill. Not exactly the best shape in which to go surfing. I spent the rest of that session doing nothing but sitting on my board out in the lineup, staring into space. I stared into space a lot over the next few days. I kept mentally going over what had happened, wondering if I would ever know what became of the man. But I’ll admit I felt a little more peaceful this time than I had after the other Warnings. Knowing that he had believed me, and that I had given him all the information I possibly could, to handle however he chose to handle it… well, what else could I do? I’d done the right thing this time. Hadn’t I?

I lived in a state of relatively peaceful semi-optimism for about two months. Then one Saturday in the summer, I found myself back in Waikiki with Peter and the gang. This particular outing was a rare treat, because I was working full time as a pool lifeguard, and I didn’t get a whole lot of time off. Unfortunately, the breaks were all crazy crowded that day and the sun was broiling. After the first hour or so of bobbing around not being able to catch a single wave, I decided to paddle in and grab a drink. The second I stepped out of the water, a man and an older woman walked up to me.

I recognized the middle-aged man immediately. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. But he wasn’t the one I’d seen in sepia tones. He was the other one, the friend.

“Hello,” he said calmly, smiling at me. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

I felt a little light-headed. “Yes, I remember you,” I squeaked. I wanted to ask him the obvious question, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew the answer already, and the knowledge that I had failed a fifth time made my limbs feel so heavy I wanted to lie down on the sand right there, right then. Just lie down and cry…

So why was the older woman smiling at me?

“This is Daniel’s mother, Maria,” he introduced. “Daniel is the man you spoke with. He died six weeks ago.”

Maria was still smiling at me, albeit sadly. She was a hunchbacked woman whom I supposed had once been quite tall. She appeared to be at least in her seventies, with the heavily weathered skin common to older people on the Islands. Tentatively she reached out, then took my right hand and held it in both of hers. “I understand you were given a sign that my son was about to die, and you warned him of it,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong, coming from such a frail-looking body. “I wanted to thank you myself.”

My hand must have felt like a cold, limp fish in hers. Her son was dead. I couldn’t imagine why she was thanking me. “I’m so sorry,” I said, having no other words.

She shook her head, then said firmly, “There was nothing more you could do. Because my Daniel had a warning, he knew he should put things right. His fear of dying made him reach out and find his brother.” Her eyes took on a distant look. “My sons hadn’t spoken in fifteen years. There was so much bitterness between them, so much pain. But Daniel refused to die without one more hug from his brother.” Her thin, cracked lips stretched into a smile again, and her dark eyes twinkled sadly. “I am grieved to lose my son. But I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that his time had come. Your warning helped him to die at peace. It brought peace for all my family. So again, thank you… What is your name?”

For several seconds, I couldn’t remember it. “Lacey,” I said finally.

“Lacey,” she repeated. “Blessings to you.” She pressed my hand once more between hers, then let it drop. She turned and began to walk away.

Her companion, Daniel’s friend, did not immediately go with her. “She’s been wanting to talk to you for a while now,” he said to me, quietly enough that she could not overhear. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for you. I’m glad you finally connected. She’ll feel better now.”

“I don’t deserve any thanks,” I said. Watching the woman slowly pick her way back up the beach, I felt nothing but sadness. Daniel was dead. Despite my warning and his actually believing it, he had died just like the others. Reconciling with a brother was nice, but it was no compensation for dying young. I couldn’t change Daniel’s destiny. I had failed. Again.

“How did it happen?” I asked, before I could think better of it.

“He had surgery,” the man answered. “It was already scheduled. Before you talked to him, I mean. The procedure itself wasn’t supposed to be high risk. The doctors all told him he’d be facing a bigger risk not to do it. After he talked to you, he was convinced he wouldn’t survive whether he had the procedure or not. But he felt like he had to go ahead. At least it would give him a chance.”

I started to feel sick to my stomach. “He died in surgery?”

The man shook his head. “A couple hours after. It was a botched job. The surgeon was high on painkillers. Another doctor had to intervene,” he scoffed bitterly. “It was so bad nobody even tried to cover it up. The surgeon’s own staff reported him. He’s in jail now.”

A strong wave of nausea rolled through my insides, leaving me in a cold sweat. “That’s… unbelievable.”

The man shrugged. “Yeah. But what can you do? You go online, you look up reviews of doctors… if there’s nothing bad there, how can you know? Dan needed the surgery. There was nothing any of us could have done.”

Maria stopped walking and turned around, no doubt looking for her missing escort. The man gestured goodbye to me with a nod of his head, then moved off to join her. I turned and started walking the opposite direction, straight into the ocean.

A part of me wanted to keep on walking.

What had I done, really? How had the stupid Warning helped anything? Would it ever help anything? If Maria had found a silver lining to it, she was a better woman than me. Maybe she could believe that her son’s death was inevitable, but how could I? It wasn’t like he’d been struck by lightning or a plane had crashed into his house! His death could have been prevented if he’d cancelled the surgery. Or if he’d insisted on another surgeon. Maybe even if he’d moved it to another day! But he hadn’t done any of that, had he? Because the damned Warning wasn’t specific enough!

There was nothing any of us could have done.

As the words of Daniel’s friend rang in my ears, hot tears began to well up in my eyes. I reached waist-high water and slithered onto my board face down. I knew that if I didn’t pay attention, sooner or later I would take a wave on the head. But at that moment, I didn’t care.

If fate could be changed, surely I had an obligation to tell people, to give them a chance. But if I couldn’t offer any specifics, what chance did they really have? What if I was only setting them up for the worst kind of stress and fear, while leaving their loved ones with a lifetime of second-guessing and guilt?

I groaned. My surfboard pitched and the ocean lapped at my ears, adding to my wooziness.

And what of the other alternative? What if fate could not be changed? Some people might want to know when their time was near, but I bet a lot more would prefer blissful ignorance. How could I ever know who was who? What right did I have to make that decision for other people?

“Hey, you all right there?” a surfer paddling near me called out. I lifted my head. She was a woman in her thirties maybe, and tough looking, with scary-violent tats on her chest and a streak of red through her jet-black hair.

I probably did look sick. For all she knew I’d hit my head on something and was about to slip underwater and drown. “I’m good, thanks,” I said quickly. “Just got nauseous for a sec.”

She seemed relieved, even as she frowned at me. “Go in, then,” she ordered. “Don’t be out here when you can’t hack it.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. I can’t hack it. I dipped my hands back into the water and turned my board around. As the waves began to push me towards shore, I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I wanted to talk to somebody, to cry on a sympathetic shoulder. But none of my friends would understand. I didn’t doubt I could find a stranger who would believe me — all I had to do was look up “psychics and astrologers” online. But I couldn’t trust anyone like that, not when so many trafficked in fraud. It would be hypocritical of me to doubt them all, of course, but how could I tell who was legit? I knew nothing.

What I needed was a friend who both cared about me and would genuinely believe me. Somebody strong, who could share my pain without me worrying that I was messing up their head. I wished that Ty could be that person. But in my heart, I knew he couldn’t handle this.

By the time the tide washed me onto the sand, my cheeks were raw with tears. I was usually a positive person, but at that moment I could see no sun on the horizon. Only more angst, and more guilt. I hoped to hell I would never get The Warning again. But if I did, I had no idea how I would handle it.

Thank goodness, before the sixth time it happened, I met Kali.