I laughed. “I’m partial to Dr. Seuss. Can she do it with Green Eggs and Ham?”

It was like I was floating above my body, unable to stop myself. I didn’t even have to touch her to be at ease; just being near her made my mind calmer. Yeah, the script was still there, but muted, not so insistent. I was in danger of getting entirely too comfortable with her. Never had the one-liners come so easily to me, never had I felt so witty. Somehow, I was getting cocky again. She had that effect on me, I guess. But bad things had a way of happening whenever I got cocky. The script suggested politely to me to be quiet, and I agreed, stifling the laughter remaining in my throat.

She gave me a look that said she wasn’t happy with me taking it so lightly. Like she actually believed in that kind of crap. Then she picked through her beach bag. “Look, I’ll show you how it’s done. Pick a number between, say, um, one and fifty.”

“Look, I really don’t need any more help seeing my future, thanks.”

“It’s just a demonstration,” she said, producing a worn paperback.

I couldn’t see the title, but I could see a man and woman locked in an embrace, bare skin everywhere, on the cover. “Wait, you’re going to tell my future using”—I reached for the book and stared at its cover—“Sins of Tomorrow by Rebecca Stanhope? Epic.”

She turned a flattering shade of red. “I said, it’s just a demonstration. And it’s a very good book, despite the cheesy cover. Don’t make fun until you’ve read it.”

“Okay. Can I borrow it from you?” I said, studying the back cover. Something about a young woman who loses the love of her life in the war and then, after marrying another dude, discovers her first love is alive! He has amnesia and has no idea who she is, but “can her undying love rekindle the flame of their passion?” That’s what it said on the back cover. Definitely epic.

“When I’m done.” She stood and said, more insistent this time, “Pick a number.”

“Okay. Twelve.”

She closed her eyes and threw the book into the air. It landed on the boards on its back cover. “Wait.” She ran to it, picked it up, and did it again, with the same result. Then she did it again. It landed on its front cover this time. She sighed. “It’s easier with a hardcover. It’s supposed to land on an open page. Oh, well, let’s just pretend it landed on page … um …”

“Two-ninety-three?” I offered.

“Yes. Great.” She flipped the book open. “And starting with line twelve, it says, ‘ “Oh, Holden,” she murmured, as her kisses trailed down to …’ ” Taryn stopped and looked up, her face redder than ever.

“So what does that mean?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face. “Am I going to get it on with some guy named Holden?”

She stomped her feet on the boardwalk, but because she was so tiny and wearing rubber-soled flip-flops, it didn’t have any effect. “It. Is. Just. A. Demonstration!” She threw the book down again and this time it skittered toward the edge of the pier. I lunged to the side as it was happening and it landed in my waiting hands. “Saw that, did you?” she began, astonished by my foresight, and for a second, I felt proud of myself. Maybe even a little cocky. But it only lasted a second. The next thing I knew, I saw what was going to happen, clear as day.

You will lose your balance and fall backward into the water.

Damn. I couldn’t steady myself in time. I tried to save her book as I splashed into the bay, but it was no good. The water was over my head.

The water was slimy and gross, and fingers of seaweed entwined themselves around my toes. I surfaced, hair over my eyes, spitting out a mouthful of salty green water, then stroked as quickly as I could toward the rickety wooden ladder. Crabs that had been feasting on my bait were probably now looking at my ankles. “Are you okay?” I heard Taryn ask. When I wiped the veil of hair away, she was bending over the side of the pier, looking worried, either for my safety or for her reputation, being seen with such a spaz.

Did I say I felt cocky? Suddenly I felt like a spider must, trying to scurry up the side of the toilet bowl before it’s finally flushed.

When I climbed up, she laughed. “So, you didn’t see that one coming?”

“Um, sort of,” I said, water dripping off the end of my nose. “Too late, though.”

“Anyway, that passage might mean you’re going to have a whirlwind romance. Or something,” she said, blushing, as she waved the book in the air to dry it. The damage had been done, though. The pages were already starting to ripple. “Thanks for rescuing my book.”

“No problem,” I said, thinking how ironic it was. I might not be any good at saving toddlers, but dime-store paperbacks, I could handle. As I looked at the cover, with those two entwined semi-naked bodies, I was hit with a feeling that nearly knocked me back into the bay.

Her favorite color is red. She likes to make construction paper snowflakes. She lost her favorite aunt in a car accident. Her first pet, a goldfish, was named Harry. She has a bright-red birthmark on her upper thigh. The list went on and on. I’d known there was something about her, something that crushed my chest every time she turned to walk away, and here it was. I knew her well. Better than Sue, my former wife. Better than anyone. The weight of all that knowledge that a day ago hadn’t been there pushed me down to the rotten planks. She looked at me, lying on the boards like a dead fish, and I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t find the words. What could I say? Nice birthmark? The script had me fumbling around, tripping over my words again. And if I went off script, if I messed anything up, she could just become a stranger to me again.

But I had to go off script, as much as possible. I had to save Nan.

So we sat there for a moment, not saying much, while my mind was working overtime. Follow the script? Veer off a little and hope she still liked me? It wasn’t hard to follow the script; it just had me sitting there, next to her, quiet, afraid to say anything and mess things up. When I was almost dry, the script had me packing up to go home. I started to pull in my lines.

“Why don’t you just come with me?” she said, tugging on the sleeve of my T-shirt. “I want to show you something.”

There probably was nothing I wanted more than to follow her. But the thought of my grandmother kept intruding. That and the nagging suspicion that this undeniably cute girl couldn’t be so into me after all the stupid things she’d seen me do. There had to be something behind it. Maybe I’d wanted to know her so badly that I just made it all up in my head.

That was it. She was the one talking about how people always wanted things from her. Maybe she was thinking she could use me. Maybe she thought I could provide her with the winning Pick-6 numbers or tell her who was going to ask her to the homecoming dance. “Why?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Because. I might be able to help you.”

“You? Help me? Don’t you mean the other way around?”

“No. I mean, you can’t help me. No one can—”

“And the idea of picking winning lottery numbers never entered your mind?” I asked, crossing my arms.

She swallowed, looked away. She could have said something. She could have denied it. Instead, she said nothing. Her silence told me everything. The sun was so hot I was already almost dry, but because of the salt, my skin felt tight and itchy. Of course she wouldn’t be interested in me. How could I even think that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Something stuck in my throat, making my words come out clipped and distorted. “Your grandmother used her”—I wiggled my fingers again—“powers to learn that I can see my future. Great. The secret’s out. I can fulfill my lifelong dream of appearing on national television as America’s Biggest Freak.”

She stared at me, confused.

“Don’t you get it? I can’t help you become a millionaire. And I can’t help you find true love or whatever. It doesn’t work that way. It sucks.” My muscles were so tense and my body so hot that I had the momentary compulsion to bolt out of there, leaving her, the fishing equipment, everything far behind. But then I took a breath, counted to ten. Exhaled. Felt better. My voice was calmer when I spoke next. “Look. I’d rather people not know. I just want to be normal.”