She must have remembered, too. So here we were, stuck on a ladder, looking up so we didn't look down.

Once we reached the top and I looked out at the view, I understood. Lena was right. It was better up here. Everything was so far away that it didn't even matter.

I let my legs dangle over the edge. "My mom used to col ect pictures of old water towers."

"Yeah?"

"Like the Sisters col ect spoons. Only for my mom, it was water towers and postcards from the World's Fair."

"I thought al water towers looked like this one. Like a big white spider."

"Somewhere in Il inois, there's one shaped like a ketchup bottle."

She laughed.

"And there's one that looks like a little house, this high off the ground."

"We should live there. I'd go up once and never come back down." She lay back on the warm white paint. "I guess in Gatlin it should be a peach, a big old Gatlin peach."

I leaned back next to her. "They already have one, but it's not in Gatlin. It's over in Gaffney. Guess they thought of it first."

"What about a pie? We could paint this tank to look like one of Amma's pies. She'd like that."

"Haven't seen one of those. But my mom had a picture of one shaped like a corncob."

"I'd stil rather have the house." Lena stared up at the sky, where there wasn't a cloud in sight.

"I'd take the corncob or the ketchup, if you were there."

She reached for my hand and we stayed like that, at the edge of Summervil e's plain white water tower, looking out at Gatlin County as if it was a tiny toy land ful of tiny toy people. As smal as the cardboard vil age my mom used to keep under our Christmas tree.

How could people that smal have any problems at al ?

"Hey, I brought you something." I watched as she sat up, looking at me like a little kid.

"What is it?"

I looked over the edge of the water tower. "Maybe we should wait until we can't fal to our deaths."

"We're not going to die. Don't be such a chicken."

I reached into my back pocket. It wasn't anything special, but I'd had it for a while now, and I was hoping it might help her find her way back to herself.

I pul ed out a mini Sharpie, with a key ring on it.

"See? It fits on your necklace, like this." Trying not to fal , I reached for Lena's necklace, the one she never took off. A tangle of charms, each one meant something to her -- the flattened penny from the machine at the Cineplex, where we had our first date. A silver moon Macon had given her the night of the winter formal. The button from the vest she was wearing the night in the rain. They were Lena's memories, and she carried them with her as if she might lose them without proof of those few perfect moments of happiness.

I snapped the Sharpie onto the chain. "Now you can write wherever you are."

"Even on ceilings?" She looked at me and smiled, a little crooked, a little sad.

"Even on water towers."

"I love it." She spoke quietly, pul ing the cap off the Sharpie.

Before I knew it, she was drawing a heart. Black ink on white paint, a heart hidden at the top of the Summervil e water tower.

I was happy for a second. Then I felt like I was fal ing al the way down. Because she wasn't thinking about us. She was thinking about her next birthday, the Seventeenth Moon. She was already counting down.

In the center of the heart, she didn't write our names.

She wrote a number.

5.16

The Call

I didn't ask her about what she'd written on the water tower, but I didn't forget it. How could I, when al we had done for the past year was count down to the inevitable? When I finaly asked why she'd written it or what she was counting down to, she wouldn't say. And I had the feeling she real y didn't know.

Which was even worse than knowing.

It had been two weeks since then, and as far as I could tel Lena stil hadn't written anything in her notebook. She was wearing the little Sharpie on her necklace, but it looked as new as the day I bought it at the Stop & Steal. It was weird not to see her writing, scribbling on her hands or her worn-out Converse, which she didn't wear much these days. She had started wearing her thrashed black boots instead. Her hair was different, too. Almost always tied back, as if she thought she could yank the magic right out of it.

We were sitting on the top step of my porch, the same place we had been sitting when Lena first told me she was a Caster, a secret she had never shared with a Mortal before. I was pretending to read Jekyll and Hyde. Lena was staring down at the blank pages of her spiral notebook, as if the thin blue lines held the answer to al her problems.

When I wasn't watching Lena, I was staring down my street. My dad was coming home today. Amma and I had visited him on Family Day every week since my aunt checked him into Blue Horizons. Even though he wasn't back to his old self, I had to admit he was acting almost like a regular person again. But I was stil nervous.

"They're here." The screen door slammed behind me. Amma was standing on the porch in her tool apron, the kind she preferred over a traditional one, especial y on days like this. She was holding the gold charm around her neck, rubbing it between her fingers.

I looked down the street, but the only thing I saw was Bil y Watson riding his bike. Lena leaned forward to get a better look.

I don't see a car.

I didn't either, but I knew I would in about five seconds. Amma was proud, particularly when it came to her abilities as a Seer. She wouldn't say they were here unless she knew they were coming.