23

Bobby

Saturday: 11:42 PM

I caught the tail end of the look Marisa flashed at Jeremy and the way his face kind of fell. I could see the tiny hairline cracks starting to form in that joker’s mask he wore. And I realized that Jeremy Glass wasn’t all that different than me. He just danced along the edges of a different kind of brink.

“I don’t get it,” Marisa said. “You’re saying the same person attacked Brittany and me? Yet hers was a woman?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m just pretty sure it is, because…”

“You saw both attacks for yourself,” Marisa finished for me.

I nodded and said softly, “Yeah.” Marisa’s eyes were dark, shiny, and bird-bright. I got the sense that she was wearing her own kind of mask. And it didn’t fit that well either.

“Why don’t we see if there’s anything else downstairs,” Gabe said, her voice frosty. “Since you’re all nice and safe in your freakout-proof suit.”

I let the girls walk on ahead of us out of the sanctuary into the brightly lit stairwell and waited for Jeremy. From the way they leaned in to speak and laughed at their own secret jokes, it was obvious they had gotten close pretty quickly. Which was nice, because at least Gabe would already have a friend when she came here next fall.

But Jeremy wasn’t keeping up. He shuffled along, a few feet behind, and instead of his usual smirk, he wore a barely disguised grimace. “Veronica again?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. I can always count on her, at least.”

“What’s up, Glass?”

“And you care why? Thought you were just tolerating me.”

I sighed. “You really did put a first-rate effort into that. But it’s kind of hard to hate you,” I said. “Even if you are a total a-hole.”

He shrugged and smiled, but his eyes were misty. “Nice to know my work is appreciated,” he said.

“Do you think they heard the end?” I asked abruptly. “Agent Reston wasn’t anywhere near the couch when she told us about the ticking clock. Maybe Gabe only knows about the psychic epilepsy— and not the rest.”

“You mean, not about the fact that you might have only seventy-two,” he glanced at his watch, “make that sixty-eight hours to live?” Jeremy looked down, distracted. “I don’t know. Why do you keep everything from that girl? She’s as tough as old leather. And worth more than gold. You’re a lucky guy.”

My head snapped toward him, my gaze narrowed. I’d caught the way he looked at her sometimes, but thought better of mentioning it.

Jeremy must have read into my look. “I wouldn’t ever touch her, Bobby. As if she’d trade you in for a lemon like me.”

I thought of mentioning that I was very likely not going to be around much longer. That, combined with my freaky dark talent, didn’t make me such a great catch. Instead I said, “Shut the fuck up, Glass, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We have work to do.”

Jeremy gave me a pained smile. “And an ignoramus country boy to keep alive.”