And I don’t even have one specific question I need answered; I have many of them.

Is my brother going to be okay?

Am I ever going to feel like I have a family again?

Will Gabriel and I ever have sex? Am I stupid for wanting it more than being afraid of it?

It’s like those ridiculous Magic 8-Balls and all I ever get are the little triangles that say: “Ask again later.”

But twenty-five cents seems like a small price to pay on the off chance, so I call.

This is the future, the recording says. Your future. A week ago, you might not have recognized the person you are today. A week from now you might be different still. Savor this time. Be proud of who you are at this singular moment.

Have I changed so much in the last week?

Will I change in the next?

Will a night with Gabriel and whatever we do or don’t do change me that drastically?

Will anyone else be able to tell?

Next, I duck into St. Sebastian’s.

I don’t remember the last time I prayed for anything.

Please, I whisper, please let Connor be okay.

Blood Makes Noise has been extended from its original limited run.

How come you don’t seem happier about it? I ask James while Becky paints his nails an absurd shade of green.

He pulls his hand back, earning a scowl from Becky. It isn’t that I’m unhappy about the show doing well, he says. It’s definitely nice to know how I’m spending the next few months. I’d just rather not feel like I was capitalizing on people’s fear in order to do it.

James’s eyes linger on mine, and I realize how difficult it has to be for him to get up there every night and talk about fear: his and everyone else’s.

My parents leave in four days.

I wrestle with the idea of telling Becky that Gabriel is coming over to spend the night. More with the idea of telling James. But then, we decide to head to Howard Johnson’s, and when we get there, I tell them both.

You need a safe word, Becky says.

What?

James swallows a laugh. She means you need a word so when your tryst gets to be too much and you’re screaming “no” and really mean “no” that he’ll believe you’re serious.

It isn’t like that, Becks, I say.

But really I guess I don’t know what Gabriel is into.

I put my head down on my arms. This is a mistake, isn’t it? I ask, but I’m not sure if I mean Gabriel coming to my house or my telling James and Becky that he’s coming to my house. But of course they assume that I’m asking a real question about Gabriel coming over.

Becky says, Maybe. James shrugs and says, Well, you could just rent a movie and lie around on the couch together.

Then he says, Oof, when Becky elbows him in the ribs.