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a good imagination but sort of ordinary-looking, and so Nickie felt like a better name.
    Pleased to meet you, said Mrs. Beeson. Im your neighbor. I live three houses down, across the street. She took off her cap and stuffed it in her pocket, and Nickie saw that she had caramel-colored hair pulled back in a jaunty ponytail, and she wore little bobbly earrings. Mrs. Beeson turned her gaze on Amanda. I didnt expect to seeyou here, dear, she said.
    Amanda had backed up against the sink. She had a piece of bread in one hand and a jar of peanut butter in the other, and she looked scared.
    Why havent you left, said Mrs. Beeson, now that Professor Green has passed?
    Im about to go, said Amanda. Soon as I find a place.
    Find a place? You have no family to go to?
    Amanda just shook her head.
    No parents?
    My mom died, Amanda said. My dad took off.
    No one else?
    Just my cousin LouAnn, Amanda said miserably. I dont like her.
    Well, dear, this wont do at all, said Mrs. Beeson. She unzipped her jacket with one quick pull and sat down at the kitchen table, ready to handle Amandas future. Nickie noticed a round blue button pinned to her sweater. The picture on it looked like a little building. Im sure I can help, Mrs. Beeson said. I have several friends in social work. Ill contact them right away. Theyll be able to place you in a home. She pulled a little phone out of her pocketa cell phone, Nickie guessed, though it had a different shape from the ones she was used to.
    Amanda took a step forward. Terror was written on her face. She dropped the piece of bread and clunked down the peanut butter jar and raised her hands like stop signs in the direction of Mrs. Beeson. I dont want to go to any home, she said. Im seventeen, I can get a job, I can find
    Nonsense, said Mrs. Beeson kindly. Everyone needs a home. She paused, her mouth half open. An idea seemed to be forming behind her eyes. Her eyebrows rose. In fact, she said, I know someone who needs a helper right now. A dear friend of mine.
    What kind of helper? asked Amanda suspiciously.
    A household helper, Mrs. Beeson said. A live-in helper.
    I dont know, said Amanda. She hunched up her shoulders and scowled at the floor.
    The friend I am speaking of, said Mrs. Beeson with a little smile, is Miss Althea Tower.
    Amandas eyes went wide. She stood up straight. She said, in a voice that cracked in the middle, The Prophet?
    Thats right. You know shes very unwell, and the girl we hired to take care of her is leaving. You could stay with her, couldnt you? You were so good with the professor.
    In just five seconds, Amanda had become a whole new person. Her face shone with eagerness. She straightened her shoulders, hooked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. I could do it, she said. Id reallylike to!
    Wonderful, said Mrs. Beeson. If you can get ready, Ill take you over there right now and see if we can make an arrangement.
    Nickie could see that Mrs. Brenda Beeson was the kind of person who moved fast and made firm decisions. She seemed nice, too. So after Amanda went upstairs, Nickie decided to ask some questions. But before she could say anything, there was a sudden pealing of tiny bells. Mrs. Beeson put her phone to her ear.
    Hello? Yes, Doralee, what is it? She listened. No, dear, Im afraid not. A pause. I know youre anxious, but, honey, Althea cannot see peoples futures on demand. No. She is a prophet, not a fortune-teller. Another pause. Im sorry, Doralee dear, but its out of the question. Please dont ask me again. She put down the phone and sighed. I get these requests all the time, she said. People are so nervous.
    Nickie plunged ahead with her question. Mrs. Beeson, she said, do you think something terrible is going to happen? Like in the Prophets vision?
    Well, I dont want to scare you, honey, said Mrs. Beeson, but Im afraid it might. Theres a lot of people in the world right now who want to hurt us. The forces of evil are strong. But our country is standing up against them, and here in