Double Vision Read online

  And the sooner, the better.

  6

  CAITLYN

  “SO ARE YOU guys going to the game this afternoon?” I asked Liam and Bianca as the final bell rang.

  Liam wrinkled his nose. “Football? No thanks.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. Liam wasn’t shy about sharing his interests in all kinds of things, from science fiction movies to current events, but he hadn’t mentioned sports at all. Still, I couldn’t help being a little disappointed. What fun was a football game without good friends to share it with?

  I turned to Bianca. “What about you? Want to go with me? It’ll be fun, right?”

  “I’ll be there.” She held up her clarinet case. “I’m in the band. Sorry, but we’re not allowed to have anyone sit with us.”

  She actually did sound sorry. Bianca didn’t have a whole lot to say, since she let Liam do the talking for her most of the time, but I liked her. She was smart, and thoughtful, and maybe a little quirky—my kind of people.

  “Bummer,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “Oh, well, Mom will probably want me to help finish some home improvement projects this afternoon anyway.”

  “What about your sister?” Liam said as he gathered up his papers, which looked as if they’d exploded all over his desk. “Can’t you go with her?”

  “Sure, maybe.” I forced a smile. Cass and I had hardly spoken all week. For some reason she seemed to blame me as much as Mom for this move, probably because I wasn’t being all bratty about it like she was. I was sure she thought I was faking it whenever I acted like this move wasn’t the worst thing ever. So what if I was a little, at first? What was so wrong with looking on the bright side?

  Still, I was starting to think it was time for me and Cass to kiss and make up. I looked for her outside of school, but there was no sign of her. By the time I got home she was flopped on her bed, flipping through a fashion magazine.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to sound upbeat. “So, listen, I was thinking.”

  “You probably shouldn’t do that.” She turned the page so fast I heard it tear. “Every time I think about my life, I want to cry.”

  “Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “About that. We should probably try to make the best of things, you know? For real. And what better way to do that than by going to the football game today? I hear almost everybody in town is going.”

  She rolled over and gazed at me. “That just goes to show that there’s nothing to do in this stupid place.”

  “Come on, Cass.” I sat down on the edge of my bed. “You like football, remember? We always had a blast at the games.”

  “That was before.” She turned away, burying herself in her magazine. “When I liked our school. And actually had friends.”

  Her tone was chilly. But I knew my sister, and I was pretty sure she wanted to make up as much as I did.

  “Come on, Cass,” I wheedled. “We should at least go check it out. We don’t have to stay if it’s lame.”

  She glanced at me with a little frown. “Sorry. Not in the mood.”

  “Don’t be like that!” I said as my voice became shrill. “For real, Cass—let’s go to the game and try to have fun, okay? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Mom stuck her head in the doorway, her face serious. “What are you girls talking about?” she asked in a tone that said she already knew. “Do you need a ride to the football game?”

  “No,” Cassie said. “At least I don’t. I’m not going.”

  “Why not?” Mom stepped into the room. She looked crisp, professional, and a little intimidating in her new police uniform with the shiny gold star on her chest. “I hear the games are the place to be on the weekends around here. It would be good for you girls to go. Help you settle in and feel a part of things.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m trying to talk Cass into it.”

  “And she’s failing,” Cass said. “I’m not interested. Seriously.”

  Mom eyed her. “Well, maybe you should get interested,” she said. “Seriously.”

  Cassie sat up, looking stubborn. “What are you going to do, order me to go to the game, Officer Waters?” she said, her voice dripping with attitude.

  Uh-oh. Mom hated when we sassed her like that. I braced myself for yelling, but instead Mom’s voice got very quiet—which was even scarier.

  “What’s in order here, young lady, is a better outlook,” she told Cass. “It would do you good to get out of the house and see more of your new hometown.” She checked her watch. “Get your shoes on, and I’ll drop you both off on my way to work.”

  “But—” Cassie began.

  Mom raised an eyebrow. “Shoes. Car. Now.”

  Ten minutes later Mom was pulling into the high school parking lot. The middle school team practiced on the dusty field right behind the school, but games took place at the high school’s stadium a few blocks away. The place was crammed with cars and pickup trucks, all of them decorated with green and gold ribbons or big Armadillo stickers on the windows. People were streaming toward the bleachers, and the crowd was huge. Aura had a pretty serious stadium for such a small town—it was almost as big as the one at our old school, though the bleachers were a little shorter and didn’t go all the way around. Still, it was obvious everyone took football seriously.

  “Let’s go,” I said with a shiver of nerves.

  “Whatever.” Cass took her time unhooking her seat belt and hauling herself out of the car. Still, I caught a flicker of interest in her eyes as she glanced toward the bleachers. Maybe she didn’t hate being here as much as she was letting on.

  Nobody paid us much attention as we headed in. I only recognized a few faces from school. There were lots of adults in the stands, and plenty of high schoolers, too.

  The game had already started, though according to the armadillo-shaped scoreboard we’d only missed a few minutes. “Wow, this place is packed,” I said as the crowd let out a cheer for a first down. “I hope we can find seats.”

  Cassie looked dubious as she scanned the home-side stands. “I don’t know,” she said. “If it’s too crowded, we could probably walk back to that fast-food place we passed.”

  “No way!” I grabbed her hand, pulling her farther in. “We’ll find space.”

  It looked like everyone in town was crammed onto the bleachers! The only empty seats were on the opposite side, where the visiting team’s fans sat. Not that I was going to sit with our rivals. That definitely wasn’t the way to fit in.

  We wandered back and forth in front of the stands for a moment, hoping someone would take pity on us and make room. Cassie was actually watching the game, her eyes on the quarterback getting ready to snap the ball. Now, if I could find us somewhere to sit fast, before she lost interest . . .

  I paused in front of some slightly older kids who were sort of sprawled across a bench a few rows up.

  “Hey, y’all,” I called to them in my friendliest tone. “Got enough space for two more up there?”

  A narrow-faced girl with dark hair glanced down at me. “Sorry,” she said. “We’re saving for some friends.”

  “Oh.” My smile wavered as I wondered whether she was telling the truth. Maybe Cassie’s cynicism was rubbing off on me.

  “Twins!” a voice rang out. “Waters twins! Over here!”

  It was Ms. Xavier. She was about halfway down the bleachers in the front row, standing and waving so hard her bangle bracelets were jingling. She gestured to the bench beside her.

  “Look, seats!” I told Cassie brightly. Grabbing her wrist, I dragged her along toward Ms. Xavier.

  “Hello, girls,” the teacher said cheerfully, smoothing out her long skirt. “I’m glad you came. I guess nobody told you that the trick to a good spot for these games is to get here early.” She winked and patted the empty bleacher beside her. “But never mind. There’s room right here.”

  “Thanks, Ms. Xavier,” I said.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Cassie muttered, making a point to sit fa
rther away from Ms. X.

  Okay, so sitting with a teacher at our first football game wasn’t exactly the height of cool. So what?

  The play finished with a turnover. One of our players had intercepted a pass and the Armadillos had gained possession of the ball. Everyone around us erupted in cheers and the band blared out a lively fight song. The cheerleaders leaped out onto the sideline and waved their pom-poms. The pounding rhythm of the music filled the stands, and before I knew it, my foot was tapping along with the beat.

  Turning, I squinted up toward where the band was sitting a few rows above us. The woodwinds were near the front, and I spotted Bianca right away. She was dressed in a green-and-gold uniform with an armadillo printed on her shirt, tootling away on her clarinet for all she was worth. When the song ended she lowered her instrument and mopped her brow. I yelled out her name, and she waved back with a smile.

  I was still smiling as I turned back to the field, where the cheerleaders were finishing up with a few cartwheels and stuff. Cassie was watching them intently.

  “Big surprise,” she said. “Megan March is a cheerleader.”

  Megan was right there in the middle of the squad, jumping and yelling. A few of her friends were there, too, though I didn’t see Lavender.

  “Yeah, makes sense,” I said. “Do you think you’ll go out for the squad next year?”

  She shot me a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding? As if we’ll still be here by then.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer, nodding toward the field. “Next play’s starting,” she muttered. “We should pay attention.”

  I turned back toward the action. The Armadillos were actually pretty good. I spotted each of the B Boys out there—Biff and Brent were on the offensive line, while Buzz was a halfback. The fourth B, Brayden, was the quarterback, and I could tell from the first few plays that he was really good. The cheerleaders freaked out and started jumping around every time Brayden moved a muscle.

  The game was getting exciting; we were up by four points and I was actually disappointed when the first half ended. “I wonder what the halftime show will be like,” I said as the cheerleaders jogged out to the field, doing flips and walkovers on the way.

  “Oh, the squad does a marvelous job,” Ms. Xavier said. “And our band is one of the best in central Texas.”

  The visiting team went first, though they’d only brought half a dozen cheerleaders and a small band that marched around haphazardly, playing their fight song. When the home team squad stepped forward, people screamed and cheered and whistled as the cheerleaders danced to a pop song that morphed into our school song at the end. Ms. Xavier sang along loudly, a little off-key, and lots of other people joined in, too, clapping their hands and stomping their feet until the bleachers shook.

  “Wow,” I whispered to Cassie. “Talk about school spirit!”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Cass watched as the cheerleaders began to form a pyramid.

  The pyramid had three layers already when Megan March stepped forward, doing a quick backflip before climbing up on the other girls’ knees. Seconds later she’d scrambled nimbly to the very top. The stands quieted as she carefully caught her balance before standing upright on the other girls’ shoulders.

  “Go, Armadillos!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, her face red as she yelled again.

  She had to be dizzy standing way up there. Strangely, I felt a little dizzy all of a sudden, too. My head swam as I tried to figure out why the scene in front of me looked so familiar. Megan, red-faced and screaming . . .

  I gasped as it hit me. She looked like she had in my vision the other day—exactly like it! When I closed my eyes, I could still see her bright-red face, her mouth stretched into an emphatic scream. I’d thought it was a scream of pain or terror, which was why I’d been so freaked-out. Now I realized it wasn’t that at all. She was just overcome with school spirit!

  Clutching the edge of the bleachers, I tried to tell myself it was a coincidence; it had to be. But here she was, exactly as I’d seen her. I’d predicted this moment, just like I’d seen Cassie getting an A on that social studies test. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Whoa. What’s with you?” Cass said. “You look like you ate a bad burrito or something. If you’re going to hurl, do it away from me, okay?”

  “I—I—” I stammered. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry.

  A whistle blew, startling me out of my stupor. I was surprised to see that the cheerleaders were already back on the sideline and our offensive line was on the field. How long did I zone out for? I fixed my gaze on Brayden as he crouched down on the field, ready for the snap.

  My sister was still watching me, looking a little worried. “Are you okay? It’s pretty hot out here; maybe you should—”

  “It’s not the heat,” I blurted out. “Listen, Cass, something kind of weird has been happening to me lately.”

  Her gaze drifted back to the field, where the center had snapped the ball to Brayden. Brayden had faked a pass but held on to the ball and was running down the field in our direction, dodging defensive linemen left and right.

  “Yeah?” Cass said. “Me, too. I keep having this horrible nightmare that I’m being forced to live in some pathetic little town.”

  “No, listen, this is for real.” I hadn’t tried to talk to her about my visions before. What was the point? It wasn’t as if we confided in each other anymore. We barely even spoke. But I really needed to talk to someone about what had happened, and no matter how much we’d grown apart, I still knew I could trust her more than anyone else in the world. “Something really weird happened the other day,” I told her. “And now something even stranger might have just happened, and I’m not sure, but I think—”

  Brayden was still coming closer. He was running right down the sideline, ball tucked into the crook of his arm, head down. A couple of West River players were behind him and losing ground fast, but another one—a big, beefy linebacker—was barreling toward him from the side.

  “Oof!”

  There was the sickening crunch of helmets and bodies crashing together as the West River player took Brayden down right in front of us. The crowd on the opposite stands whooped, while a sigh of disappointment went up from our side.

  Then, a different sound cut through the racket as Brayden rolled over and let out an earsplitting shriek of pain.

  7

  CASSIE

  “BRAYDEN!” I EXCLAIMED as I saw him writhing in agony. Beside me, I heard Cait gasp in shock. I was surprised she’d noticed the tackle, even if it had happened right in front of us, since she’d been babbling on about something pointless. Classic Caitlyn.

  As I looked down at Brayden, I didn’t stop to think—I just reacted, leaping out of my seat. All around me I could hear people shouting: “What happened?” “I think he’s hurt!”

  But I ignored them all as I ran to the sideline, focused on him. Brayden’s face was twisted beneath his helmet, his eyes squeezed shut.

  “Hold still,” I ordered him, grabbing his hand. “You don’t want to hurt yourself worse.”

  What do you know? All those first aid lessons Mom had drummed into us over the years had stuck. I felt weirdly calm and in control.

  Brayden gripped my hand so tightly his knuckles went white. “My leg,” he moaned.

  I glanced at his leg and blanched. It didn’t look right—the lower part of the leg was twisting away at an odd angle. Oh, man. This couldn’t be good.

  The player who’d tackled him was already on his feet, hovering nearby. “He okay?” he asked in a gruff voice. “I didn’t hit him that hard, I swear.”

  “Stay still, okay?” I told Brayden again. “Help will be here soon.”

  I had no idea if it was true, but Brayden seemed to believe it. His eyes popped open and fixed on me, glazed with fear but focused on my face.

  “Th-thanks,” he mumbled, squeezing my hand even tighter.

  I glanced from his ear
nest, pain-shrouded hazel eyes to our hands, which were locked together tightly—as if we never wanted to let each other go. . . .

  And suddenly my brain jumped to another scene like this. One exactly like this.

  No way. I had to be making it up. The stress must have affected me, let my imagination run wild. Right? Because it was as if that weirdo-freaky vision I’d had by the water fountain was coming true! Only instead of some romantic hand-holding scene, it was . . . this.

  But it couldn’t be. I couldn’t handle this right now. I’d already lost my home, my friends, and my social standing. I couldn’t afford to lose my mind, too.

  “Brayden!” A man skidded to his knees on Brayden’s other side. “Buddy, you okay?”

  “I don’t think so, Coach,” Brayden burbled. “My leg—it hurts.”

  I didn’t want to stick around to hear any more. As hard as it was to believe, only a couple of seconds had passed since I’d leaped onto the field. Adults were rushing toward us from every direction, cell phones in hand, shouting questions and instructions. I even heard the jingle of Ms. Xavier’s bracelets as she hurried over, announcing that she’d already called 911.

  Yanking my hand free, I staggered away, sucking in a few deep breaths and trying to take in what had just happened. I was vaguely aware that Caitlyn was calling my name, though it seemed to be coming from far away. My head spun, and I couldn’t seem to stop gulping for air—I knew I needed to get away and calm myself down before I started screaming. Because what I was thinking was impossible. Totally, over-the-top crazy. It couldn’t have happened. I was just imagining things; that was all.

  Now all I had to do was convince myself of that. . . .

  Turning, I shoved my way through the throngs of people flocking toward Brayden. Once I was free I started to run, desperate to get away. I didn’t stop until I reached the restrooms behind the visitor-side bleachers.

  I collapsed against the cool, solid concrete wall and slid down to the floor. “Wow,” I muttered aloud. “So much for that romantic moment . . .”