All of Finn’s guests were either squeezed onto the pavilion deck or had spilled out into the surrounding wildflower garden. Zadie didn’t see her sister, but she did hear what sounded like a parrot saying Finn’s name. Speech time, she thought, grimacing at the memory of the last of Kathy’s speeches she’d had to sit through. It was at Finn’s end-of-the-season cross-country banquet. After Finn was presented with the MVP Award, Kathy had practically shoved the coach aside to get to the microphone. Her sister had looked mortified by the whole display and couldn’t get off the stage fast enough.

Zadie couldn’t see anything from down on the lawn, so she circled around the building and went in through the front door. The deck was so packed that Zadie had to stand half in, half out of the sliding patio door. To not waste precious AC, she closed it as much as she could without squishing herself. It gave her the appearance of someone who had made a run for an elevator and got there a second too late.

As Daniel had predicted, the object that had drawn the party guests to it like bees to a punch bowl was indeed a cake. Finn stood patiently beside it, smiling mildly. Zadie tried waving at Finn, but succeeded only in drawing the attention of Kathy, who was in the middle of delivering her Proud Mom speech: “—of her accomplishments: star track athlete, magna cum laude, just to name a few.” From the bravado in Kathy’s tone, you’d think she had done all of those things herself, not Finn. Zadie had always suspected that Kathy was the kind of woman who lived vicariously through her children, and now she was surer of it than ever. I promise not to do that to you, Zadie told the Ladybug inside her.

All of a sudden, her gut did a somersault. She didn’t have time to close her eyes or hum a song. The premonition came at her with such force she felt momentarily dizzy.

THE SKY IS FULL OF BIRDS.

Each word was a boulder. The heft of them made her sway, made her brace herself against the doorframe and look to the sky, half expecting birds to start falling to the earth, biblical style. But Zadie didn’t see even a single sparrow.

THE SKY IS FULL OF BIRDS.

As with most of her premonitions, the message was so obtuse it was functionally useless. She shook her head, trying to knock the words loose so she could flush them from her system, but they stuck to her brain like a bur.

THE SKY—

Zadie was moments away from leaving the party before the cake was even served when the premonition finally lifted, one word at a time: birds … of … full … is … sky … the … Each one evaporating like mist into the blue sky.