“What’s it going to take, older Alice?” I shout into the night. “How do I show you I’m serious about talking?”

I take a deep breath as the rain continues to pour down on me. This is a game of chicken between my older self and me. She doesn’t believe I’ll follow through. She doesn’t think I’m brave enough—or foolish enough—to extend my makeshift lightning rod into the sky, awaiting, tempting, even daring the next bolt.

My insides churn like they’re set on the spin cycle. Watch me, older Alice.

I straighten, slowly raising the metal rake. A bright light flashes next to me, and the air sizzles—

ZIIIING.

Did the lightning get me? Am I electrocuted?

“Stop, Alice,” the Voice shouts. “Stop it! I’m here, for goodness’ sake. I’m here.”

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

She came. The Voice saw me or felt me or remembered me, and she’s actually here.

I collapse on the roof, and the rake slams onto the siding. The adrenaline flees my body, turning me into a cold, wet noodle. On the top of a house. In a raging thunderstorm.

I won. In a game of chicken, she yielded first. She fell for my bluff.

At least, I’m pretty sure it was a bluff. I wouldn’t have continued to tempt fate. I wouldn’t have held my rake in the sky until the lightning found me. I don’t think.

“Get inside,” the Voice says wearily, as though reading my mind. “Dry yourself off, put on something warm. And then we’ll talk.”

For once, I’m happy to obey.

…

“Seriously?” the Voice asks a few minutes later. “What were you thinking? Don’t you have better things to do than to hurt yourself?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” I say weakly. And to show her that I have the upper hand in our relationship. But I can’t admit that.

I’m perched on my bed now, wrapped in a fluffy robe, my damp hair pulled into a ponytail.

My jellyfish mood lamp sits on the nightstand. It reminds me of Bandit’s lava lamp, although it emits pink, purple, and orange lights instead of the singular blue. The trajectory of the gelatinous creature is easy, mindless, soothing. Good thing. I need all the comfort I can get right now.

“You actually thought you could summon me by exposing yourself to lightning?” Her tone hardens “News flash. The only thing that will do is get you killed. I come on my own time. Got it? Just this once, I decided to accelerate my visit by a few hours—but I won’t do it again, no matter what foolish stunt you pull.”

I run my fingers over the glass of the mood lamp, not saying anything. Oh, she’ll come again if I want her to. She proved that in our game of chicken.