I unsnap my seatbelt and open the door, walking to the other side of the SUV until I open Gilbert’s side.

“What are you doing?” he says.

Ethan is out of the car now. “Waverly, we don’t have time for this.”

“Are you really trying to throw down right now?” Gilbert says.

“I’m going to prove to you that I can see the future,” I say.

He rolls his eyes.

“Give me your hand,” I say. “Now, I can only see a few moments ahead, but maybe I can predict something you’ll do or say.”

“Impossible,” Gilbert says. “If you tell me what I’m going to say, then maybe that will be why I say it.”

“Then I’ll tell Ethan, and we’ll both watch for you to do what I see.”

Gilbert looks at Ethan and shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever.” He holds out his hand to me. “Please tell me my immediate future,” he says sarcastically.

I hesitate, but I don’t know why. This is my first time to try this without fear of imminent danger, and I don’t know if it will work. I can’t bear the thought of having to listen to Gilbert the entire way to Crestwood, babbling about how I’m a fake. I shouldn’t let him bother me so much, but everything he says just gets under my skin.

I reach out and grab his hand and the bright light flashes.

I expect to see the three of us riding in the SUV together. I thought that maybe I would see him cough, or sneeze, or maybe he would tell an off-color joke to Ethan, but what I actually see terrifies me. 

There is the other me, standing next to Ethan in what looks to be a giant warehouse. She’s cold and shivering, and there is another man there. He looks like he’s in his twenties, but I can’t see him that well in the darkness. The sound of greyskins all around them grows louder. 

“There needs to be a distraction,” the man says. “or we’re all going to die.”

There is a long pause. It’s storming outside. The rain falls heavy and the lightning flashes every couple of seconds. They are all cold and full of fear. Each of them looks tired.

As I watch my other self, I see her fingers clutch to Ethan’s clothing. He leans his forehead into her cheek and whispers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she says. 

His hand reaches for hers and he holds it tenderly, and a blank stare falls on the other Waverly’s face.

I watch from my out-of-body distance as Gilbert stares at the group. I expect him to be angry, but instead, I see him wipe away a tear. 

“Give me the gun,” Ethan says. “I’ll distract them. You all run.”

The man hands Ethan the rifle. 

“No,” Waverly says.