Read Gasp (Visions) for Free Online Page B

Officer Bentley and changes the subject. “You haven’t seen our dad, have you?”
    Officer Bentley points his thumb over his shoulder toward the fence. “He’s in there.” He gives us a grim smile, and he doesn’t mention what a coincidence it is that we were hauled into the principal’s office a few weeks ago for talking about a shooting at school.
    “Thanks,” Trey and I say together.
    Officer Bentley hesitates, eyeing us, and then henods briskly and smiles. “Take care, kids. And stay out of trouble. We’ve seen your names in the paper more than enough lately.”
    “Yes, sir,” I say. “We’d really like things to calm down too.”
    He smiles and continues walking.
    When he’s out of earshot, I mutter, “I was worried he was going to ask a few more questions.”
    “Me too,” Trey says. “We need to stop getting hurt. And be invisible.”
    “You’re telling me.”
    Trey and I walk over to the opening in the fence and look through it. And there’s Dad, on his haunches next to a long, slanted hunk of whatever the roof was made of. Delicately he picks up a nearly unrecognizable scorched book and wipes the ash from it, straining to see in the dying light. And then he sets the book on a pile of other books and pokes through a layer of ash, picking up something else. Something small. He wipes it off and holds it up to the last weak rays of sun, and it glints silver.
    “It’s the thimble from a Monopoly game,” Trey says softly. “Dear God.”
    Dad slips the thimble into his pocket.
    My stomach hurts.
    I look at Trey. He looks at me. We drop our eyes and walk away.
    •  •  •
    Later, after we’ve debriefed Mom and everybody else is either in their bed or in a sleeping bag on the floor, I find her again in the dimly lit dining room, sitting at the table holding a cup of hot chocolate, staring out the window into the darkness.
    I pull out a chair. She turns at the noise and smiles at me.
    “Are you feeling okay, sweetie?” she asks.
    “Yeah, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
    She puts her warm hand on mine and squeezes. “I’m fine. It’s just a house. It’s just a business. Replaceable things.”
    I nod and contemplate that for a long moment. “Waiting up for Dad?”
    “Yep,” she says, trying to sound upbeat. Trying to sound like the old Mom we’re used to.
    She takes a sip from her mug and turns back to the window.
    After a minute I ask, “Aren’t you mad at him? I mean, it’s kind of his fault . . .” The words aren’t coming out right, so I stop talking.
    For a moment I think Mom doesn’t hear me. But finally she turns again to smile at me. And then she nods. “Yes, Julia,” she says in a measured tone. “I’m very mad. I’m mad that your father won’t get help. I’m mad that I can’t make him. I’m mad that he can’t see . . .” She trails off.
    Maybe it’s the darkness, maybe it’s the circumstances, maybe it’s because I’m seventeen now. I’m not sure. But it’s the first time she’s been so honest with me about her feelings. And I think it’s the first time she’s treated me like an adult, rather than protecting me because I’m her kid.
    “Maybe he’ll get help now,” I say. But knowing what I know about the Demarco curse, I don’t really believe it. He’s been in the hospital before for his mental illness, and he won’t go near anyone who could put him there again.
    I don’t think my mom believes it either.
    Just then my phone vibrates. I frown and look at it. It’s a text message from a number I don’t recognize. When I open the message, I almost drop the phone.
    It reads: I want to talk about the vision thing.

Thirteen
    “Are you all right?” my mom asks.
    My heart is racing. I look up from my phone. “Yeah,” I say. I close the message, slide my phone back into the pocket of my sweatshirt, and yawn. “No big deal. I’m going to bed. Or . . . to sleeping bag, that is.” And then I add, “I’m sure Dad will be