I grip the edge of the table and rise from my seat, my legs feeling shaky, unsure, my stomach unstable. This lady is crazy if she thinks what I have is a gift. Because I know better. I know it's just one more punishment for everything that I did, everything that I caused. It's my own personal burden, and I just have to deal with it. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I finally say.

But she just nods, and slides her card toward me. "When you're ready, you can reach me here."

I take her card, but only because Sabine's watching from across the room and I don't want to seem rude. Then I fold it in the palm of my hand, squishing it into a hard, angry ball, as I ask, "Are we done?"anxious to get away.

"One last thing." She slides the deck into a brown leather case. "I'm worried about your little sister. I think it's time she moves on, don't you?"

I look at her, sitting there so smug and knowing, judging my life when she doesn't even know me. "For your information Riley has moved on! She's dead!" I whisper, dropping her crumbled-up card on the table, no longer caring who sees.

But she just smiles and says, "I think you know what I mean."

Chapter Fourteen

That night, long after the party had ended and all of our guests were gone, I was lying in bed, thinking about Ava, what she said about Riley being stuck, and how I was to blame. I guess I'd always assumed Riley had moved on and was choosing to visit on her own free will. Since it's not like I ask her to drop by all the time, it's just something she chooses to do. And the times she's not with me, well, I figure she's kicking it somewhere in Heaven. And even though I know Ava's only trying to help, offering to stand in as some sort of psychic big sister, what she doesn't realize is that I don't want any help. That even though I yearn to be normal again, go back to the way things were before, I also know that this is my punishment. This horrible gift is what I deserve for all the harm that I've caused, for the lives I cut short. And now I just have to live with it—and try not to harm anyone else.

When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt of Damen. And everything about it felt so powerful, so intense, so urgent, I thought it was real. But by morning, all I had left were fragmented pieces, shifting images with no beginning or end. The only thing I could clearly remember was the two of us running through a cold.

"What's your problem? Why so grumpy?" Riley asks, perched on the edge of my bed, dressed in a Zorro costume identical to the one Eric wore to the party.

"Halloween's over," I say; staring pointedly at the black leather whip she slaps against the floor.

"Duh." She makes a face and continues to punish the carpet.

"So I like the costume, big deal. I'm thinking about dressing up every day." I lean toward the mirror, insert my tiny diamond-chip studs, and scrape my hair into a ponytail.

"I can't believe you're still dressing like that," she says, her nose crinkling in disgust.

"I thought you bagged yourself a boyfriend?" She drops the whip and grabs my iPod, her fingers sliding around the wheel as she scrolls through my playlist.

I turn, wondering what exactly she saw.

"Hello? At the party? By the pool? Or was that just a hookup?" I stare at her, my face flushing crimson.

"What do you know about hookups? You're only twelve! And why the heck are you spying on me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Please, like I'd waste my time spying on you when there's way better stuff I can see. For your information, I just so happened to go outside at the exact same moment you shoved your tongue down that Damen guy's throat. And trust me, I wish I hadn't seen it."

I shake my head and ransack my drawer, transferring my annoyance at Riley onto my sweatshirts. ' Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, but he's hardly my boyfriend. I haven't talked to him since," I say, hating the way my stomach just curled in on itself when I said that. Then I grab a clean gray sweatshirt and yank it over my head, completely destroying the ponytail I just made.

"I can spy on him if you want. Or haunt him." She smiles.

I look at her and sigh. Part of me wanting to take her up on it, the other part knowing it's time to move on, cut my losses, and forget it ever happened.

"Just stay out of it, okay?" I finally say. "I'd like just one normal high school experience, if you don't mind."

"Up to you." She shrugs, tossing me the iPod. "But just so you know, Brandon's back on the market."

I grab a stack of books and stuff them into my backpack, amazed at how that bit of news doesn't make me feel any better.

"Yup, Rachel dumped him on Halloween when she caught him making out with a Playboy bunny. Only it wasn't really a Playboy bunny, it was Heather Watson dressed as one."

"Seriously?" I gape. "Heather Watson? You're joking." I try to picture it in my mind, but it doesn't add up.

"Scouts honor. You should see her, she lost twenty pounds, ditched the headgear, got her hair straightened, and she looks like a totally different person. Unfortunately, she also acts like a totally different person. She's kind of a, well, you know, a B with an itch," she whispers, going back to whipping the floor, as I let that bizarre piece of news sink in.

"You know, you really shouldn't be spying on people," I say, more concerned with her spying on me than any of my old friends. "It's kind of rude, don't you think?" I leave my bag onto my shoulder and head for the door.