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such a freaky
sister. Hey, why don't you ask Serena about Michael if you don't
believe me?"
    "Has she
dated him?" Vanessa asked.
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    Morgan laughed
dismissively. "I can't believe you don't know."
    "What?"
Catty and Vanessa said together.
    Morgan leaned
in closer. "She's a fortuneteller. She can answer your questions
about guys. She charges twenty dollars a pop. But I swear it's worth
fifty."
    "How did
you find out so much so quickly?" Catty was amazed.
    "I ask."
Morgan nodded wisely. "She's read my fortune twice already."
    "She
probably just tells you what you want to hear," Vanessa scoffed.
    Morgan shook
her head. "It's spooky. I swear. With her tarot cards, it's like
she knows things no one can know. Don't ask her anything you're
afraid to find out because you might not like the answer. And you
have to go alone. That's her only rule. You need to go see her,
Vanessa."
    "Why?"
    "She'll
tell you just how bad your broken heart will be; some girls never
recover from Michael Saratoga."
    Vanessa didn't
think that sounded like
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    Michael. He was
polite and sweet, and she liked his gentle humor. He never told
raunchy jokes, or made vulgar comments like so many of the guys at
school did.
    Serena picked
up her cello and walked over to them. "Were you one of those
girls, Morgan?"
    "What
girls?"
    "You know,
one of the girls who never recovered from a broken heart?" There
was a sparkle in Serena's green eyes.
    "Damn."
Morgan's eyes narrowed. "See what I mean?"
    "How did
you know what we were talking about?" Vanessa asked.
    "I have
acute hearing," Serena said.
    Morgan gave her
a dirty look.
    Serena stuck
out her pierced tongue, showing off the stainless-steel barbell.
    "Cool."
Catty had already pierced her belly button. Vanessa wanted to but
hadn't gotten up the nerve yet.
    Morgan wrinkled
her nose in disgust. "Germ central." She walked away, but
she kept casting
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    backward
glances as if she were afraid Serena was going to put a curse on her.
    "Here."
Serena handed Vanessa and Catty each a piece of paper. "My home
address. Come by any time you want your fortune read. And come
alone." She picked up her cello and started toward the bus stop.
"Catch you later."
    Catty tossed
her paper on the ground. "Too endlessly weird. On a scale of one
to infinity, she gets infinity plus a billion. I don't believe anyone
can see into the future."
    "That
sounds strange coming from you." Vanessa glanced at her watch.
"We're supposed to meet my mother, and with your insane time
travel we're going to be late."
    "I'll just
take us back an hour," Catty started.
    "No."
Vanessa stopped her. "We're going to do it the old-fashioned
way. We're going to walk and I'm going to get yelled at for being
late."
    Vanessa stared
at the paper Serena had given her as she and Catty walked up La Brea
Avenue toward Melrose. Was what Morgan had said about Michael true?
She tucked the paper in her pocket.
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    Chapter 7
    FRIDAY
AFTERNOON, campus security roamed the hallways and parking lot at La
Brea High School, trying to stop surfers, skaters, gangsters, and
ravers from cutting the rest of the school day and starting an early
weekend.
    "Come on,"
Catty called. "They'll never catch us if we sneak off campus
through the back field. I've done it a million times."
    Vanessa
hesitated. "But we'll get suspended if they catch us."
    Catty giggled
and pulled Vanessa forward. "Whoever thought of suspending
students for cutting classes? It's exactly what they wanted in the
first place."
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    "It goes
on your permanent record."
    "Don't you
want to ask my mother if she knows what those words mean, the ones
you said the other night?" Catty smiled persuasively.
    "I can
wait till after school."
    "I told
you she's busy tonight. Now's your only chance."
    "All
right." Vanessa sighed.
    "Great,"
Catty said. "Let's hurry."
    They ran down
the narrow weed-filled corridor between the gym and music building.
Grasshoppers and moths scattered in front of their feet. A trill of
flutes and the honk of a