Jillian, of course. I leaned to the right to get a better look at her, but I could only see narrow hips with tiny hands clenched angrily to them.

“Oh my God, Jillian,” Joshua gasped in mock horror. “I’m so sorry. You know your popularity is the most important thing in my life.”

“Cut the crap, Josh,” Jillian snapped. “It’s bad enough that you showed up at school looking like a hobo, but now you have to spend lunch talking to yourself in your car?”

“I was practicing for Debate.”

She snorted in derision. “You’re not even in Debate. And anyway, you haven’t eaten lunch by yourself since . . . ever. So people are talking.”

“And I care because . . . ?”

Jillian’s tiny hands flew off her hips and folded together in a gesture of prayer. “Because your little sister really, really wants to be Homecoming Queen her senior year, and she can’t do that if you don’t leave her some coattails to ride on.”

Joshua groaned and sank back into his seat. Undeterred by the groan, Jillian ducked down to pop her head in through the open window. She still wore that perpetually wry look even when she forced her lips into a begging pout.

Lucky for her, her pleas worked on Joshua. Seeing her attempt at contrition, he barked out a genuine laugh. Jillian laughed too, and her entire face changed. The sharp edges softened, and her hazel eyes sparkled. She was beautiful when she laughed.

“Fine,” Joshua conceded. “I’ll socialize. But just because your entire future depends on it.”

Jillian snorted again but must have thought better than to continue fighting. She straightened, propped her hands upon her hips once more, and waited while Joshua rolled up his window.

Once the window had closed, Joshua turned back to me. “Coming to class?” he whispered.

I hesitated, just for a moment, and then whispered back, “Well, someone has to make sure you don’t fail Calculus.”

Joshua opened his door and got out of the car, shoving past Jillian and circling to the passenger side. With one quick glance at his sister, possibly to see how closely she watched him, Joshua pulled open my door and ducked down to grab his book bag from the floor. I pushed myself up and squeezed through the narrow opening between his body and the doorjamb, careful not to brush against him.

Apparently, he didn’t feel the need to be as careful with me as I was being with him. When I passed him, he ran his fingertips softly down the length of my calf. An instant wave of heat shot across the back of my leg.

“Hey!” I cried. I heard Joshua snicker as he shut the door behind me. I started to reprimand him—at least, halfheartedly, anyway—when Jillian interrupted us again.

“Josh, what was that noise?”

Joshua froze, one hand still grasping the door handle. Slowly, cautiously, I spun around on one heel until I could see Jillian’s face over the top of the car. She looked serious now, with a confused frown dragging at the corners of her mouth.

“Are you talking about my laugh?” Joshua asked her.

“No, it sounded higher. Like a girl’s voice.”

Joshua and I both balked, but he recovered faster. “Maybe you heard someone calling you, from the back lawn?” he suggested.

She shook her head, a stubborn line forming between her eyebrows. “No, Josh, it was right here. By the car.”

“Okay, okay.” Joshua held up his hands and gave a nervous, deflecting sort of laugh. “But you know they don’t give Homecoming crowns to girls who hear voices, right?”

Jillian’s frown softened then. She looked as if the idea of appearing crazy was more frightening than some disembodied voice. She shook her head again, perhaps to shake away whatever she thought she’d heard, and smiled. “You never know—maybe psychosis will be the hot new thing in two years.”

“Let’s hope so, for your sake.”

Jillian rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb toward the school. “Socializing, Josh. Pronto.”

Joshua gave her a dismissive wave, but Jillian seemed placated enough to turn and walk back to the school yard. Once she had moved out of earshot, I looked up at Joshua.

“‘A girl’s voice’?” I whispered. “Do you think she heard me?”

Joshua’s eyebrows drew together in thought. After a few more seconds of watching his sister’s retreat, he looked at me from the corner of his eye and mouthed, Seer?

“Maybe,” I mused, also following Jillian’s figure as she strode onto the back lawn and into a pack of young girls. Before immersing herself in the pack, Jillian tossed a last glance over her shoulder at her brother. Her expression was one of annoyance, but she also looked puzzled—as if she wasn’t really sure what she’d just heard.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Joshua whispered, and then pulled his bag farther onto his shoulder. “Ready for class?”

I nodded and then followed closely behind him through the parking lot, gnawing at my bottom lip. I couldn’t shake the image of Jillian’s confused, contemplative look. What exactly would it mean if I had another spiritually aware human to contend with? I loved Joshua’s awareness, but I didn’t really need Ruth Junior on my hands too—not right now.

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the sound of rushing air beside me. I only had time to cry out “Joshua!” before something large and grunting hit him in the back.

It took me a second to realize the charging object was the burly, red-headed boy from Joshua’s Calculus class, the one who’d told him he should have skipped yesterday. Now I could see that the boy hadn’t actually hit Joshua; he’d merely wrapped one thick arm around Joshua’s neck and pulled him into a playful headlock.

“Mayhew, dude, I knew you were a genius, but damn. Yesterday’s performance in Wolters’s class was epic.”

Joshua laughed, but it came out sounding more like a strangled cough. Turning a little pink, Joshua began tapping on the boy’s arm.

“O’Reilly, man, loosen up your kung fu grip.”

“Oh.” With surprising speed, the boy—O’Reilly—let go of Joshua and gave him a few rough pats on the back. “Sorry, dude.”

“No problem,” Joshua choked hoarsely.

“So,” O’Reilly said as he picked up the bag he’d knocked off of Joshua’s shoulder. “You still stuck in the library for seventh period?”

“Yeah, the doctor said I can’t do strength training until probably around Christmas. Because of the whole heart thing, you know?”

“Dude, ’cause you, like, died, right?”

O’Reilly’s words might have been offensive if they weren’t so guileless. When O’Reilly handed Joshua the bag, his brown eyes were wide with nothing but concern for his friend. I liked him immediately.

“Yup. Because I died.” Joshua laughed and gave me a sly glance before continuing. “But don’t worry—I’ll be in condition for baseball season.”

“You’d better be, dude. I need my center fielder. If you don’t show, I’ll probably throw you back in the river myself.”

“Yeah, with one guy dead and one guy out for homicide, we’ll really be sure to win the regional championship.”

The soft, unfamiliar voice surprised me, and I looked around the hulking form of O’Reilly for its source. Standing there behind O’Reilly was the other boy I’d noticed yesterday in Ms. Wolters’s class.

This second boy was about Joshua’s height and build, but he had shaggy, sandy-colored hair and dark brown eyes. When O’Reilly leaned over to give him a lighthearted punch on the shoulder, he merely smiled slightly and curved his shoulders forward in a protective sort of way. The movement made him look shy, and I instantly warmed to him too.

Joshua turned to the boy, holding up one hand for him to clasp. “Scott, man, what’s up?”

Scott smiled more brightly. “Not much, Mayhew. How you feeling today?”

“Great. Better than ever.” I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw Joshua’s free hand twitch toward me.

“Sweet,” Scott said, nodding.

As if Scott’s appraisal of Joshua’s health was some secret code, the boys begin to move collectively across the lawn without further commentary. I followed after them, a little mystified by their exchange.