Now she was the one who looked small and vulnerable. It was right at that in-between time, the blurred line where family-friendly fun and party-all-night mixed. But despite the fact that she belonged to neither category, she melted into the scenery perfectly. She stood alone, but she wasn’t dressed for a night out on the town. She had on a prim white sweater, the kind old ladies at church socials wear. She had her hands laced in front of her, as if praying. Jocelyn was probably in her late twenties, but she looked a lot older, probably because she was so serious and proper. Her hair was pulled back in a very severe way that made every line and flaw in her face visible. She was always frowning, but with her hair like that, the frown looked mean. She fidgeted, taking in all the games and attractions as if she’d never seen them before. I almost had to laugh, watching her standing there like she’d rather be anywhere else.

It was hard for someone to be more out of place than I was, but she managed. Why the hell she was here, of all places? Maybe she was meeting someone. Maybe she was going on a date.

I was trying to think of what kind of guy she’d date when I neared her. I wasn’t expecting to stop and talk to her, but then she folded her arms across herself. She was shivering. Her face was pale and ghostlike. There was something wrong.

She glanced at her wristwatch, and in that moment, something caught in my mind. It was the first night I’d met her. She’d taken some Hot Wheels out of her backpack and let me play with them. She had one that was aqua blue, with doors and a trunk that opened. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. She was telling me that I could keep it when my mother began moaning from upstairs. That night, when Nan came home, I’d cried, clutching that car in my hands, knowing I’d probably never see Jocelyn again. But she came back. She babysat for me a few more times, until she went to college.

I stopped short in front of her. Immediately, pangs of pain thudded in my head. I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to speak to her, if I could find the right words. I opened my mouth, still not certain what would come out. “Jocelyn? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She’d been inspecting her fingernails and I startled her. When she recognized me, her face softened. “Hey.”

“You looking for something or someone?” I ventured.

She just stood there for a second, perplexed. Then she smirked as if to say, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You just look a little out of your element,” I explained, and as I did I saw it all in perfect clarity.

When we were done speaking, she would walk away from me, step out onto the boardwalk, and go next door. To the tent. I swallowed as I saw it, as if it had already happened.

Jocelyn was the one getting the Touch.

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I have an … I’m meeting someone.”

She began to turn away, but I grabbed her hand before she could. When she turned back, the shock and anger in her face made me flinch. She started to yank free when I said, “Why are you doing it?”

She stood there, her cheeks aflame and eyes intent. “What?”

I didn’t need her to confirm it. I knew it like I knew my own birthday. “The Touch. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Her eyes softened, but she finally yanked her arm away from me. “Why should you care?”

“Because I …” I searched for the words. “Because I don’t want you to do it. It could ruin your life.”

“I already got the warnings and precautions talk,” she said, her voice dull. “What do you know about it, anyway?”

I laughed under my breath. “More than you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Why do you want people to do whatever you say?” I asked. “You really think it would be that great?”

Surprise dawned on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her.

“What if you told someone to go jump off a bridge?”

She bit her tongue. “Well, I wouldn’t—”

“How do you know? What if the Touch made everyone do everything you said, no matter what? Even if it killed them?”

“Then I would just be careful to—”

“Have you ever said anything you didn’t mean?”

She choked on her words. “Well, yes, but …” She sighed. “Please go away. This has nothing to do with you. You don’t know what it’s like. What my life is like.” I waited for her to say more, to tell me what it was like, but she didn’t. She just stood there, staring at the ground, her breathing short and erratic. “I can’t. I can’t go into this with you.”

I backed away. Of course she couldn’t. I was everything she detested; that much I could see in her eyes. “Do you remember when you used to come over to my house to babysit?”

She nodded. “So?”

“My mom. The moaning upstairs. Nan probably told you she was sick,” I said. “She wasn’t sick. She was Touched. Jocelyn, I’m Touched.”

She drew in a breath, her fists clenched slightly. “You … you are?”

I nodded.

“What do you have?”

“I can see my future.”

She slumped against the pinball machine, dropped her bag to the ground, and shook her head. “But then you should understand how important—”

“I understand that you can ruin your life. My Touch ruined mine. Sure, some things about it are good, but they’re seriously overshadowed by the bad. Just … keep that in mind.”

She looked out the door, toward the seagulls circling above the beach in the clear blue sky. “My whole life, everyone ignores me. Everyone walks all over me. I’m about to lose my job. It’s like nobody even sees me.” She buried her face in her hands. “I am so sick of being walked on, and I don’t know what else to do.”

I shrugged. I knew what she meant. Sometimes I was so sick of being a freak that I probably would get a Touch if it promised to make me normal. I said, “You were the best babysitter I ever had, you know. You were the only one who ever played with me. I was crushed when you went to college.”

Her frown didn’t soften, but her eyes brightened for an instant. She looked away. “I’ve got to go,” she said. From the way she said it, I didn’t think she’d pay any attention to me. Now the arcade was a little more crowded. I walked to the outer edge of the room, where the cinder-block wall stood, and, checking to make sure nobody was watching, quietly slid over it. I hit the ground unsteadily and had to grasp the velvet curtain to prevent myself from landing in the tent. I found the opening and crouched there, where I could hear Taryn’s smooth, sweet voice and her grandmother’s gruff one playing off each other. Just another way in which they were extreme opposites. They were busy gazing at the entrance and hadn’t noticed my less-than-slick appearance.

“What time is it now?” her grandmother croaked.

“Ten after,” Taryn said. From between the decorative tassels on the curtains, I could see her peeking outside the tent.

Ten after, I thought. I hadn’t realized I was that late. But Jocelyn still wasn’t there. If she’d gone straight from talking to me to the tent, she would have been. I tried to think of the future but couldn’t place Jocelyn in the tent. Maybe I had convinced her. Yes!

The tent was dark, lit only by the cobwebbed crystal chandelier that was up so high it barely cast down any light. But I could see creases in Taryn’s face. She looked in my direction, shrugged, and then sighed. “Well, what do we do if she doesn’t show up?” she asked.

Her grandmother was sitting with her back toward me, and I could see the book opened on the table in front of her. “We go home, sevgili,” she said.

“But I only have three days left,” Taryn said.

“Yes. We will find another. I have some interest.”

I found myself leaning forward, my forehead almost out the opening of the curtains, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Three days? Three days for what?

“But don’t worry, sevgili. This one’s a stupid girl. She will come. Stupid people are easily led to us,” her grandmother croaked.