“Huh?”

I handed the card to him. He stared at it. Then he looked at me. “HorrorLand? What is that? An amusement park or something?”

I shrugged. “Beats me. What a loser fortune.”

A horn honked. I turned to see our car. Dad waved from behind the wheel.

I still felt shaky as I climbed into the backseat. Tingly all over.

“How was the movie?” Dad asked.

“Awesome,” Jackson said. “I can’t wait to see it again!”

*  *  *

The next morning, I beat Jackson down to breakfast. We have a race every morning. First one into the kitchen gets ten points.

I don’t know why we do it. Jackson hates to wake up. So far, I’ve won every morning. I think the score is about ten thousand to nothing.

I said good morning to Mom and Dad and dropped into my seat at the kitchen table. “Here’s a surprise,” Mom said. She set a plate of waffles down in front of me.

I blinked. “I knew you were going to make waffles,” I said. We usually just have toast or a Pop-Tart.

“You smelled them?” Mom asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“No,” I said. “I really knew it. Like a premonition or something.”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Jackson staggered up to the table. He yawned loudly right in my face. He thinks that’s funny.

“I got ten points — again,” I said.

He slumped into his chair at the other end of the table. I gazed down at the steaming-hot waffles and sniffed. I love the smell of waffles in the morning.

“Jackson, would you pass the syrup?” I asked.

I heard a soft zzzip, and when I looked up from the waffles, the syrup bottle was right in front of me.

“How did you get it to me so fast? Did you throw it?” I asked.

Jackson had the strangest look on his face. He stared at the syrup bottle as if he’d never seen one before.

Mom set Jackson’s waffles in front of him. He reached for his fork — and bumped it off the table. It clattered onto the kitchen floor.

“What a klutz,” I muttered. I blinked. The fork was back on the table.

My mouth dropped open. “Am I seeing things?” I asked him.

He stared at the fork. “Weird,” he muttered. He shoveled a whole waffle into his mouth.

Dad was frowning as he read the newspaper.

“Do you really think they might shut down the car factory?” I asked.

He finished reading something, then turned to me. “Jillian, how did you know I was reading about the car factory?”

“I — I don’t know,” I stammered.

I turned to Mom. “If you can’t pick me up after school, it’s no problem,” I said. “I can take the bus.”

She set her coffee cup down. “How did you know I was thinking about that?”

Mom and Dad both stared at me. “Are you reading our minds?” Mom asked.

I laughed. “Maybe I am….”

Then I looked across the table — and gasped. One of Jackson’s waffles was floating in midair!