“What’s that?” Kori tried to take it as if we were still kids arguing over a new toy, but I pulled it away from her, just like I always had as a child.

“This is Noelle. What’s left of her, anyway.”

“What does that even mean?” She sank onto the mattress next to me.

“Don’t get mad.” Another deep breath. “I know she was your best friend, but when you guys were sixteen...we started...seeing each other. Like, all of each other. Privately.”

Kori laughed.

“Why is that funny? I’m serious. Elle and I were a thing.” A top secret, middle of the night, swear-on-your-life-you’ll-never-tell kind of thing.

Her smile had taken on a life of its own. “It’s funny that you think I didn’t know.”

“You knew?” I couldn’t process that. Surely if she’d known, Elle and I would never have heard the end of it.

She shrugged. “I figured there had to be a reason she wanted all the sleepovers to be at our house, and that it had nothing to do with Gran’s winning personality.” Another shrug. “Also, I woke up in the middle of the night a few times, and she was gone. The first time I freaked out—until I heard the two of you down the hall.” Kori shuddered at the memory. “It was disgusting. It was also none of my business.”

Disgusting? “Yeah, well, now my room is between the one you share with Ian and the one Kenni shares with Van. I think we’re even.” But the mention of Kenley had sobered us both.

“So...what’s with the notebook?”

I flipped it open and gave her a look at the first page full of dates and broken phrases—whatever I could understand of Noelle’s night mumblings. “Elle talked in her sleep.”

“Holy shit.” Kori grabbed the notebook. Her focus scrolled left to right, up and down as she read. “You wrote all this down in the middle of the night? Are they predictions?”

“Some of them.” I fought the urge to snatch the notebook back. Those handwritten lines were all I had left of the girl I’d loved more than the world itself, from the first time I saw her until the day she’d died. Then long after. They’d been mine that whole time. Private memories. Abandoned potential. And—when I realized I couldn’t interpret any of the lines—my secret shame. “I don’t know how many are predictions and how many were just dream fodder. For all I know, they’re all both. Maybe her dreams were predictions.”

She flipped through the pages, scanning words too fast to be absorbing any of them. “What made you start... I mean, how did you know to write them down?”

“I didn’t at first. But do you remember the day that school bus driver fell asleep and drove through a crosswalk? The crossing guard died?”

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly, her gaze unfocused with the memory. “After that, we started driving Kenley to school, so she wouldn’t have to take the bus.”

“Yeah.” That had made sense at the time. If one bus driver was a Nyquil guzzling lunatic, they all could be. “You had a sleepover the weekend before. Noelle snuck into my room when you, Liv and Anne passed out, and afterward, we fell asleep. A couple of hours later, I rolled over to tell her she had to get back to your room before anyone woke up, and she was talking. Kind of...whispering. But her eyes were closed. She was asleep.”

“What’d she say?” Kori’s eyes were huge.

“I can’t remember, exactly, but it was something about a crosswalk, then, ‘Wake him up!’ It made no sense at the time, but then that Monday, there was the bus accident, and I made the connection. I wrote everything down after that. See the dates?” I pointed out the first one, and Kori stared at it, fascinated. “I know it sounds stupid now, but at the time, all I could think was that if I’d known what she was talking about, I could have stopped it. I could have saved that crossing guard. She had kids, you know. It was in the paper.”

My sister stared into my eyes as if she could see through them into my soul. “So you thought that if you wrote it all down, you could...what? Play superhero? Snatch women from railroad tracks before the train even leaves the station?”

I could only shrug. “I told you it sounds dumb.”

“Yeah, it does.” Yet there was a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. “But only because prophesies are notoriously ambiguous, and you are notoriously ambitious. So...did it work?”

“Not even once.” I could feel my shoulders slump and wondered if I looked as guilty and frustrated as I felt. “I stopped sleeping when she came over, so I wouldn’t miss a word. I kept a flashlight in my nightstand—”

“Next to the condoms, right?” Kori said, and it took me a second to realize she was teasing.

“Yeah, actually. Anyway, writing it down was easy. Figuring it out was hard.” Impossible, really. “Every now and then something would happen, and a line or two from the notebook would suddenly make sense. But by then, it was too late. I never figured any of it out in time to actually make a difference, until today.”

“Sera?” Kori had made the connection, but she couldn’t understand it yet. But then, neither could I.

“Here.” I took the notebook and flipped through the pages, looking for the familiar entry. I’d read them all a million times, but that one had always stood out, because of the directive.

“Damn, Kris,” she mumbled as I scanned page after page. “How long were you two...a thing?”