“My sister died too.” I nod, caught up in it now. “As did Buttercup. She was our dog.”

“Ever—” He shakes his head in the way people do when they can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be you. “I—”

“I died too,” I add, before he can finish. Not wanting to hear his awkward condolences, struggling to find just the right words when the truth is, those words don’t exist. “I died right alongside them—but only for a few seconds, and then I was—” brought back, resurrected, given the elixir that grants eternal life—I shake my head. “Well, then I woke up.” I shrug, wondering why I just confessed all of that.

“Is that when you became psychic?” His gaze is unwavering, fixed right on mine.

I glance toward the stairway, making sure Sabine’s nowhere near, then I glance at Munoz and just nod.

“It happens,” he says, neither surprised nor judgmental, more matter of fact. “I’ve read up on it a bit. It’s a lot more common than you’d think. A lot of people come back changed or altered in some way.”

I gaze down at the chair, fingers tracing along the top of the cushion, glad for the information but realizing I have no clue how to respond.

“And from the way you’re fidgeting and glancing at the stairs every five seconds, I’m guessing Sabine doesn’t know?”

I look at him, trying to lighten the mood when I say, “So who’s psychic now? Me or you?”

But he just smiles, searching my face with a new understanding that, thankfully, erases the look of pity that lived there before.

We stay like that, him looking at me, me studying the chair, the silence lingering for so long I finally shake my head and say, “Trust me, Sabine wouldn’t understand. She’d—” I dig the toe of my sneaker into the carpet’s tight weave, unsure just where to take it from here but knowing it’s imperative that I make myself clear. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a great person, really smart, and a super successful lawyer and all, but it’s like—” I shake my head. “Well, let’s just say she’s a big fan of black and white. She’s not so big on gray.” I press my lips together and look away, knowing I’ve said more than enough, but needing to make one final thing clear. “But please don’t tell her about me—okay? I mean, you won’t—will you?”

I peer at him, holding my breath as he considers, taking his time as Sabine heads down the stairs. And just when I’m sure I can’t take another second he says, “We’ll make a deal. You stop cutting class and I won’t say a word. How’s that?”

How’s that? Is he kidding? He’s practically blackmailing me!

I mean, I know I’m not in the best position—especially since I’m the only one with something to lose, but still. I glance over my shoulder, seeing Sabine pause in front of the mirror, double-checking her teeth for stray lipstick tracks, as I turn toward him and whisper, “What does it matter? There’s only a week left! And we both know I’m getting an A.”

He nods, rising from his seat, a smile widening his cheeks as he takes in Sabine, though his words are directed at me. “Which is why you have no good reason not to be there, right?”

“To not be where?” Sabine asks, looking way too beautiful with her smoky eye makeup, fluffy blond hair, and an outfit that Stacia Miller would probably sell a kidney for if she were twenty years older.

I start to speak, not trusting Munoz not to blow my cover, but he jumps right in, voice overpowering mine when he says, “I was just telling Ever to get on with her plans. There’s no need to stick around and entertain me.”

Sabine glances between us until her gaze rests on Paul. And even though it’s nice to see her looking so relaxed and happy and eager to get the night going, the second he places his hand on the small of her back and leads her toward the front door, it’s all I can do not to hurl.

Chapter Twenty-Six

By the time I get to Haven’s, everyone’s gathered, looking on as Haven stands just outside the window where she first found her cat, saying a few words in Charm’s memory, while hugging a small urn to her chest.

“Hey,” I whisper, sidling up beside Damen and glancing at the twins. “What did I miss?”

He smiles, looking at me as he thinks: Some tears were shed—some poems were read— He shrugs. Though I’m sure she’ll forgive your lateness—eventually.

I nod, deciding to show Damen the reason for my lateness—presenting the entire debacle in full Technicolor glory. Watching as Haven sprinkles Charm’s ashes over the ground as the images from just a few moments before stream from my mind to his.

He slides his arm around me, comforting me in just the right way, placing a full bouquet of red tulips briefly into my hands—careful to make it appear and disappear before anyone sees.

Was it really that bad? He glances at me as Haven hands the urn to her little brother Austin, who scrunches his nose and peers inside.

Worse. I shake my head, still wondering why I chose to confide in Munoz—of all people.

I move closer, leaning my head on his shoulder as I add: And the twins? What are they doing here? I thought they were afraid to go outside?

They stand beside Haven, faces identical with their solemn dark eyes and razor-slashed bangs—but the similarities end there, having ditched their usual private school uniforms for ones of their own. With Romy striving for the all-American wholesomeness of a J. Crew catalog model, while Rayne’s look hails straight from the Hot Topic aisles with her edgy black minidress, torn black tights, and towering platform Mary Jane shoes. Though I doubt they actually shopped at those stores. Not when Damen can just manifest for them.