I felt my way along the wall, knowing the door should be right behind us. Except it wasn’t. The wall just kept going.

I hit the penlight button on my switchblade. The light flickered, oddly dim, and I could see only Gabriel and the wall.

No, I saw Gabriel and a wall. An unfamiliar wall with peeling and faded wallpaper. The door was ten feet behind him. A thick wooden door that didn’t belong here any more than that wallpaper.

“Do you remember I told you I stole a Dr Pepper when I was twelve?” I said.

Gabriel didn’t ask what that had to do with the current situation. I was telling him a secret. That’s how we handled my random visions—how we proved we were still us.

“That’s not the only thing I ever stole,” I said. “In high school, I liked a friend’s boyfriend. I was fifteen and stupid, and I thought if he decided he liked me better, that wasn’t my fault. We went out once, while he was still dating my friend. Afterward, I felt like shit. I’d disrespected her. Disrespected our friendship. And for what? A guy I kind of liked? It was never the same again, her and me. So that’s the worst thing I ever stole.”

“I stole fifty dollars from Rose,” Gabriel said, and then let that hang there as he tensed, waiting for my reaction. The Walshes had a rule that friends are not marks, which went double for family.

When I didn’t react, he said, “It was after Seanna left. I stayed in our apartment until the landlord realized he wasn’t getting his rent. After that I spent a couple of weeks on the street. I was fifteen, and it seemed as if I could never get enough to eat. I wasn’t sleeping, either, which meant my hands weren’t steady enough to pickpocket. I hitchhiked to Cainsville. Rose wasn’t there. I stayed the night, and she didn’t come home, and by then I’d realized I couldn’t put her in that position—having to care for a teenager. So I left. But…I took fifty dollars. I knew where she kept extra money, and I told myself I was just borrowing it. I snuck back a few months later and returned it, with an extra ten for interest. But that doesn’t matter. I stole. From family.”

“You borrowed out of necessity—”

“No, I stole.”

“She’d never have begrudged you—”

“That doesn’t matter.” His face wavered in the dim glow of the penlight. Then he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “And that wasn’t the little secret you needed. Sorry. I’m…”

He made a face, and I knew what he meant. With Seanna’s return, he felt off-kilter. Exposed. Vulnerable.