Read Gasp (Visions) for Free Online

again.
    “Exactly, that’s why he’s scared.”
    “That’s what I’m saying,” Uncle Vito says. He picks his teeth. “So what is he, Mexican?”
    “Vito!” Aunt Mary and Mom say together.
    “What? It’s just a question!”
    “It’s racist,” Aunt Mary says.
    “Oh, for crying out loud. It is not. People ask me that all the time.”
    “They do not,” Aunt Mary says. “It’s too obvious with you.”
    “Either way, it’s rude,” Mom says. “He’s American like everybody here.”
    “How do you know?” Uncle Vito asks. Aunt Mary slaps him.
    “He’s Filipino-American,” Trey calls out from the breezeway in an annoyed voice. “So knock it off already. Hey, kids, have another piece of cake, why don’t you?”
    I grin at Rowan as our younger cousins start shrieking and grabbing more cake and Aunt Mary shoots a look of mock disgust in the direction of the breezeway. It’s good to be laughing.
    I hear the screen door slam shut and hope it’s not Ben running for his life.
    And if it is, I hope Trey is running with him.

Eleven
    School is weird but we get through the first day, and the second, and the third. People are being nice—for now. But I know how this goes. In a few more days, when their pinprick-size moments of sympathy run out, they’ll be talking behind my back again.
    After school on Thursday I find Sawyer and we linger outside the meatball truck for a minute while Rowan and Trey climb inside.
    “Anything you guys need?” he asks me, like he’s asked every day this week.
    “Nah. We’re good.” He’s already done enough. “Do you have plans tonight?”
    He shifts. “I was thinking about going back to UC to talk to the guy we missed. Clark, I think his name is.” Hehesitates. “You probably can’t come along, right? I mean, I totally understand if—”
    “Yeah,” I say. “I mean no, I can’t. Whoever has the vision curse is going to have to wait.” I can’t believe I’m saying that, but that’s just how it is right now.
    “I figured. You don’t mind if I just try to keep things moving while you handle your family stuff, do you? I’m just . . . getting a little anxious about it.”
    I frown at the ground. I want him with me. It’s selfish, I know. “Yeah,” I say. “Go.” I try to sound like I really mean it. Because I should really mean it. Just because my whole life burned up doesn’t lessen my responsibility for this vision thing. “I wish we knew how to stop the visions,” I say.
    Sawyer looks at me. “Do you? Because if we stop it, chances are more people will die.”
    “Yeah.” I scrape the toe of my new used shoe along the asphalt. “I guess I’m just full.”
    He seems to know what I mean by “full,” even though I’m not quite sure myself. Full of shock, full of sadness, full of stress. Too full to deal with the vision. He brushes my hair from my shoulder and caresses my cheek like his hand belongs there. “It’s okay. I’ll keep searching.” He lifts my chin and puts his soft, cool lips on mine.
    And then he’s gone, and I’m in the food truck withmy siblings, riding to Aunt Mary’s. I lean my head against the window as we pass the Jose Cuervo billboard, which looks just as it should.
    •  •  •
    When we walk into Aunt Mary’s breezeway, I can hear the cousins running around, arguing. Trey presses his eyelids shut and shakes his head slowly. Rowan flashes an annoyed look. We have nowhere to hide, and this is getting old. Our home is the living room. I try to be thankful for Aunt Mary and Uncle Vito for opening up their house to us, and for keeping their kids mostly out of the living room so we can feel like we have someplace to call our own, but it’s hard.
    We venture up the two steps into the main part of the house and around the corner into the kitchen and see a stranger sitting at the table with Mom and Dad. Mom’s lips are pressed together so firmly that they’re gray, and Dad is staring straight ahead, a vacant look in