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terror —from an old locker in an old school—most likely because I was so nervous about being there.” I cast him a reluctant glance. “Okay, so let’s say you might be on to something. Might be,” I added grudgingly. “Whose terror did I connect with? Suellen’s? Or just mine?”
    He furrowed his brow, and his double chin tripled. “Both, maybe.”
    â€œQuit going psychic on me, Dobkin.”
    â€œ You’re the one who’s psychic. I’m just trying to make you think. Listen. What did those other kids do when you almost passed out?”
    â€œNoreen and Tyler? They kept me from falling on the floor! They stood there and watched me make a total fool of myself!”
    â€œI mean”—Dobkin sighed loudly—”did they say something like, ‘Oh, no, not that haunted locker again!’?”
    â€œHaunted locker?” I propped myself on my elbows and gave him a scathing look. “That’s the best one yet, Dobkin. As if I didn’t have enough on my mind right now without—”
    â€œYou knew when Mom and Dad were killed. You knew the exact second it happened, even though we were miles and miles away. You can’t deny that.”
    â€œStop it,” I muttered, turning over so he couldn’t see my face. “How would you remember, anyway? You were too little.”
    â€œI remember,” he said softly.
    We both went quiet then. I could hear Aunt Celia in the kitchen below us banging pots and pans and chopping something for dinner, and outside my window a tree branch scraped gently against the glass.
    â€œIf it happens again, you won’t be able to ignore it,” Dobkin challenged me. “If it happens again, you’ll have to admit you’ve picked up on something. If it happens again—”
    â€œIt won’t,” I cut him off and swung my feet over the side of the bed. “Do you mind? I’ve got homework to do.”
    I hated ending it like that. I glanced over my shoulder and watched him trudge across the floor. He paused with one hand on the doorknob.
    â€œIf it happens again,” Dobkin said reasonably, “what if something happens to you? ”
    I felt a chill go through me, deep and piercing. Somehow I managed to laugh.
    â€œYou’re so silly, Dobkin. I thought Aunt Celia told you not to watch all those scary shows on TV anymore.”
    â€œThe reason I watch them”—Dobkin gazed back over his shoulder at me—”is to keep alert to every possibility.”
    Dad’s favorite expression … how did Dobkin remember that?
    My heart clenched a little, remembering the wink Dad always used to give me when he doled out advice, and I just looked at Dobkin, not really sure what to say. He shut the door behind him, and I wandered over to my back window and stared out.
    At one time the backyard must have been beautiful, with all its trees and shrubs and even what looked like a small plot of garden in one corner beside the storage shed. Someone had been nice enough to mow the grass before we moved in, but weeds still marched along the fence and choked the flowerbeds where a few sorry tulips had managed to stick their heads through. A dream for Aunt Celia, I thought—she’d be spending hours and hours out there trying to turn the place into some sort of exotic paradise.
    I let my gaze roam slowly to the neighbor’s backyard on the right. I could see only part of it—a doghouse and some apple trees—but there was no sign of movement anywhere. It made me realize suddenly that no one had come over to welcome us since we’d been here—but then again, we’d only shown up late Friday night, and the weekend had been taken up with trying to settle in and run errands and stock up the refrigerator. Still … you’d think in a small town where everyone’s supposed to be so curious about you …
    Restlessly I moved to the other