Aunt Ellen coos, flipping through brochures that sound thick and expensive. In truth, she’s probably just as relieved as I am that I’ll be out from under her roof. Inheriting two sad, strange girls from her half sister was never in her life plan. But . . . I can’t leave Fia. How could I leave Fia?
No. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. Maybe Fia’s life will be easier if I’m not around. If she doesn’t have to worry about all the things I don’t see—and, worse, the things I do. Maybe a life without me is exactly what Fia needs.
And I could use a fresh start. I haven’t had a vision in months. Maybe it’s over. If I move away from people who know about me, maybe I can really be done with the seeing.
I don’t know if I want to be, though. Because without the visions, I don’t see anything at all. I still haven’t figured out if they make the darkness better or worse, but that doesn’t stop me from craving them.
The first one, the worst one, runs through my mind. Two years ago now. I was twelve, sitting on the couch. And then I was in a car somehow, my parents in the front seats, the radio on softly in the background with too much static—how was I in the car? What was going on? How could I see? I tried to open my mouth, to tell my parents I was there, I could see, I was seeing for the first time in eight years! But nothing happened. And then everything happened—there was a horrible noise of metal twisting and groaning, glass flying everywhere, the whole world turning and spinning and smashing the car.
And my parents.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in the darkness, screaming. My parents were gone, out on a date. Fia tried to calm me down, figure out what I was talking about. I freaked the babysitter out so much she called my parent’s cell for them to come right home. They never made it.
And the worst part of all, the part that haunts me the most, is wondering if seeing what I saw caused the accident.
Since then it’s happened a few more times—sight suddenly flooding my midnight world. Broken snatches of the future, the present, or I don’t even know. I don’t want to know. My eyes are worthless.
“Annie,” Fia whispers, startling me as our aunt talks with the man—John? Daniel? I’ve forgotten his name already. She whispers low enough that she knows only I’ll hear. “There’s something wrong with this. Something bad.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s not—I can’t explain it. Don’t do it. This is wrong.”
“Excuse me, girls? Do you have a question?” I can hear his smile. It sounds like confidence. I wonder if he’s handsome. I think he is. I wonder if I’m beautiful. Fia says I am, but she is the best liar in the world.
“Yes, actually.” Fia answers him, her voice filled with fists. “I have a lot of questions. Aunt Ellen, can you wait outside?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she says, her voice pinched with disapproval. She’s worried Fia will mess this up for her, that the school will realize I’m not just blind, I’m also crazy, and then they won’t want me.
“No, it’s no problem,” Daniel/John answers. “I’m more than happy to answer Sofia’s questions privately. Why don’t you go meet with my assistant and get some of the preliminary forms filled out? That’s the one downside to all this—so much paperwork!” He laughs and my aunt pads out of the room, closing the door with a soft snick.
“So.” He sounds less professional and more amused. “What is it you have questions about?”
“This is a load of crap.”
“Fia!” I hiss.
“Why would you say that?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” She sounds angry, frustrated with herself. “If I knew why, I’d tell you. Annie, please, listen to me. This is a bad idea. I feel sick. We should leave. We’ll be fine. The school can bring in more braille texts, and we’re doing okay, right? Together? We need to stay together. Please.”
I open my mouth to answer her—because now I feel sick, too, only I feel sick because I want to go to this school more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I have nothing here. I will only ever be the blind sister, the poor blind orphan. At a school like this, I could be Annie. I could figure out who Annie is besides the blindness. But I can’t leave Fia behind. Ever.
Before I say anything, John/Daniel speaks. “You feel sick about this? Can you describe the feeling?”
“No, I can’t describe the feeling,” she snaps. “All I know is that this is a bad idea and you’re a liar and I should keep Annie far, far away from you and your stupid school.”
He stands, and I can hear the smile slide back into his voice. “You’re twelve, correct? You know, Sofia, we like girls with independent spirits. I can see that you two are a package deal. How would you feel about joining your sister? And I should tell you that the Keane Foundation has a lot of ties in the medical community; we would immediately start researching to see if there is a way to reverse Annabelle’s retinopathy—the condition that caused her blindness.”
I squeeze Fia’s hand, my heart stopped. A school. A new chance. And maybe, just maybe, new eyes that would see only what they were supposed to. “Please, please, oh please, come with me. Please come with me. You felt sick about it because we were going to be separated, but now we won’t! It’s perfect.”
“It’s still wrong,” she whispers, but I don’t let go of her hand. I won’t. I already know I’ll win this, because she always lets me win, and we’ll go together, and our lives will really start.
I CHECK THE THREE MEN—ALL ARE DOWN. WE NEED to go now. “Come on.”
I walk toward the other end of the alley, but Adam doesn’t follow. “What just happened?” he asks.
“Please,” I say through gritted teeth. “We need to get out of here. One of those guys was calling someone and I can’t fight anyone else.”
Adam still hesitates. He looks at the men and then at me, over and over again, like he is trying to put together a complicated puzzle.
“Please,” I say again. “They’re going to kill you. They already shot me. Please.”
And then, his eyes wide with shock, he runs to catch up with me. He doesn’t walk right next to me, but rather a few feet away and behind, wary. He’s decided I’m his best option. I hope he’s right.
“We need to call the cops.”
“No, we can’t. You need to be dead, Adam.”
“I—what?”
“I don’t know what those guys wanted with you. But the guys I work for want you dead. And if you aren’t dead, they’ll keep coming after you, and they’ll kill the only person I love in the whole world to punish me for not doing what they told me to. So as far as anyone is concerned, you are dead.”
He stops again. Please stop stopping, Adam, we don’t have time for this. “So you really were going to kill me?” He’s reacting calmly—too calmly, he’s probably in shock. He regards me with a strange sort of analytical intelligence