He licks his lips and then pulls his chair closer to the table, leaning his head in close to me. “Have you ever revisited a vision?”

I just stare at him, not sure what that even means.

He reaches into his bag and brings out a small glittering stone, strung on a silver chain so tarnished it’s almost entirely black. “This is a focus stone. Have you seen one of these before?”

I shake my head, but I’m mesmerized by the glinting gem that seems to be colorless and every color in the world all at the same time. It’s the size of a large grape and cut into a teardrop.

He caresses one of the large facets of the stone as he continues. “It has no power by itself, really. It helps enhance your abilities.”

“What abilities?” I say, but I have to force myself to breathe steadily. Maybe this is what the pages of Repairing the Fractured Future are talking about. What I always suspected was possible. Abilities beyond simply the visions.

He hesitates. “There are so many things that an Oracle can do. It’s not just about seeing the future; you can have an active role in creating the future.”

I hold my breath now, my eyes fixated on the stone, but I say nothing.

“This stone will allow you to revisit a vision you’ve already had, and change it.”

“Keep Jesse from dying,” I whisper, understanding now. I hold out my hands. “May I?” His nod is a bit jerky, but he places the stone in my hands.

It’s warm. Warmer than a few minutes in his hands should have made it. It frightens and exhilarates me all at the same time. “Where did you get this?”

“I didn’t. Sh—she never told me how she got it. Thought it was too dangerous a secret for even me to know.”

“Your Oracle friend?”

He nods.

“What was her name?” When he hesitates, I raise my eyebrow. “You want me to trust you to teach me forbidden powers and you won’t even tell me her name?”

“Shelby,” he whispers, like it hurts him to say it.

I stare at him, wondering if he’s telling the truth. About any of this, really. “I can’t do this right now. I need to think.”

Smith looks disappointed, but he doesn’t argue. “Don’t wait too long,” he says.

“I want to take this with me,” I say, curling my fingers around the stone when he reaches out for it. His hand clenches into a fist for a second before he pulls back and slips it under the table again.

“I’m not sure you know what you’re asking.” He inclines his head toward the stone. “That is one of the most powerful items on the face of the Earth. I’ve spent over a decade of my life hiding it. Protecting it, really. If anyone finds it—if your aunt sees it—both of our lives are at stake.”

“If you want me to trust you, you need to trust me too. Let me take the necklace, and I’ll make a decision.” My voice comes out much more steady than I feel. “And either way, I’ll give it back.” I can tell he doesn’t like it, but I’ve put him in a position where he has no choice. Not if he wants any shot of working with me.

Still, he hesitates. Then he reaches into his bag again and holds up a small velvet bag. “Be careful with it,” he says, his voice low and serious. “And I don’t recommend trying anything. I’ll teach you everything I know if you decide to trust me, but you could mess up a lot of stuff if you dive in on your own.”

His words chill me because they ring with such truth. Powerful and dangerous. That’s what this thing is.

Unless, of course, he’s completely crazy. Then it’s just a shiny piece of costume jewelry.

That’s what I need to figure out.

ELEVEN

Despite hurrying back from the mall, I’m going to be late to my second-hour class. I’m rushing down the hallway toward choir when I hear someone calling my name.

“Charlotte, wait.”

I turn to find Linden breathing hard after running to catch up and everything inside me melts and freezes all at the same time. Maybe it’s because Smith was just talking about him. About us.

It’s a story I think about almost every day, but that I’m sure Linden has forgotten. Why would he remember? To him it was just a minor playground accident.

To me it was everything.

I still remember his eyes looking down at me in concern as my sight came back. He had said, “I got the wind knocked out of me last week when I fell off my bike. It’s okay.” Then he reached out his hand. And I took it. Teachers arrived about ten seconds later, but for those brief moments it was just him and me. My little ten-year-old heart fell in love that day.

I guess I forgot to fall out again.

“I just wondered if you’re leaving town over Christmas.”

I shake my head, trying to remember how to make my mouth form words. “W-we’re staying here,” I finally manage.

“I thought maybe we could get together sometime during the break.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

“Sure,” I say, pulling out my phone. We exchange numbers and I focus really hard to make sure I don’t screw up and enter any of them wrong.

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” Linden says, pocketing his phone, “but it’s nice having someone I can chat to about something—anything—other than . . . you know.”

“Yeah, it is,” I agree, although I’d have talked to Linden about anything in the world.