A car horn interrupted the cozy silence of the kitchen—Bree had arrived!

“Later, Mom,” I cried, running to grab my bag.

“Wait, you haven’t eaten breakfast!” she protested.

“Not hungry!” I called over my shoulder.

“You will be in class. Hang on!” she ordered, and I paused, my hand on the brass doorknob. Through the window, I could see Bree sitting in her car, looking bored and texting. She honked again without looking up. Geez, Bree, I thought, the neighbors are going to love that.

“Here,” Mom said as she jogged from the kitchen. She shoved a granola bar into my hand. “Something for the road, sweetie.”

“Okay, bye Mom,” I said as I opened the door and ran to Bree’s car.

“Have a good day at school!” she yelled from behind me.

Not likely, I thought as I slid into the passenger seat.

After all, it was just another Monday in Portsmouth, Rhode Island.

Chapter Two: Clairvoyance

Portsmouth High was a completely different shade of miserable than the rest of the town. With its off-white halls stretching around like a maze, antique stairs running up and down, old worn wooden finish, deep red curtains and a smell like dust and lead paint, it made me long for the days of living in the city and going to a school that didn’t feel like a rejected haunted mansion. But those days—the neon lights, the laughter and the friends I’d left behind in San Diego—I had to accept that they were over and there was nothing to do but keep getting used to it. This was my life now, with all its bland, white blankness and bland, creaky old fishing boats and the bland, creepy old school I had to force myself to go to every single day.

Bree and I had somehow arrived early, and I sat down on the front stairs, postponing going inside for a few more precious minutes as I looked up at the iron-blue morning. A cold wind blew in like a message from the rising sun, tossing the gold and red leaves of autumn around like a crackling tornado.

“Bree,” I said.

Bree, sitting at my side, gave me an inquisitive look as she cracked open a can of Pepsi.