Bang by Lisa McMann Page B

unmade bed. “Crap.”
“He’s picking me up at dark thirty and we’re going to
    try to get out to Lake View and Lincoln Park and back
    before school starts.”
“Ugh, that’s going to be horrible at that hour.”
He shrugs and sits next to me. “We don’t have a
    choice. He thinks we’re running out of time.”
We both lie back on the bed and stare at his ceiling.
    “Anything new?”
“Still no. I asked him some questions that he thought
    he could find answers to in the vision.” He sighs.
“Thanks for doing that.”
“No, it’s cool. He’s a great guy.”
I smile and look over at his face. “You sure you’re not
    in love with him?”
That gets a laugh. “I’m in love with something, I
    guess, but not Sawyer, though I still think he’s a total hottie. I guess I’m in love with this cute little relationship thing you guys have.” His lingering smile is wistful. “And,
    like, you know, Rowan and . . . what’s his name?”
“Charlie.”
“Yeah, Charlie. I heard more about him the other day
    when I drove Rowan home. Seems like they’ve got something good too.”
My throat catches a little. “You’ll have it too. You will.
    I mean, maybe just not in high school. Maybe college. For
    sure college—things will be better.”
He folds his hands behind his head. “I hope so, Jules.
    I really do.”
There’s a soft knock at his door.
“Come in,” he hollers.
Rowan peeks her head in. “Hi. I heard my name and
    came running.” She comes in and closes the door. She
    wrinkles up her nose and sniffs tentatively as she surveys
    Trey’s mild clutter, and then she approaches the bed.
I sit up and shove Trey over so Rowan can sit too.
    “The only way you could have heard your name is if you
    were standing with your ear pressed against the door.”
“It was a short run,” she says agreeably.
My eyes grow wide and meet Trey’s alarmed look.
    What else did she hear?
She sits down and lies back on the bed next to me. “So,
    guys,” she says. “Isn’t it about time you fill me in on this
    whole vision thing?”
Twenty-One
    “Um,” Trey says.
“Um,” I say, and then add in a weak voice, “What?” I
lie back down again.
She sighs. “Oh, please. Just come out with it already.”
She looks at her cell phone clock. “I’m leaving in a few
days.”
“Maybe we should talk about that ,” Trey says.
    “Nice try.” She sits up and scoots back so that she can
lean against the wall between Trey’s posters of Johnny
Depp and Adele.
I tilt my head back so I’m looking at Rowan upside
down. “What exactly do you think you know?”
“Well, I know you have a phone, I know you talk to
Sawyer at night when you think I’m sleeping, I know somebody’s having a vision of some kind of . . . shooting, and you
all seem to think you have to do something about it.”
    Trey snorts and sits up. “Well, that about sums it up,
Ro.” He shakes his head, laughing. “Thank you and good
night, everyone—I’ve got an early morning, so, uh, Jules?
You wanna take this one in your office?”
I just stare dumbfounded at Rowan.
“Oh!” Trey adds, standing and fishing inside the
pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a familiar key chain.
“Just remembered. Great news. Dad says it’s time to start
advertising at school again.” He gives me a patronizing
smile and hands the keys to the new meatball truck to me.
“Don’t crash it. Have a ball.”
“Har har. Don’t forget my ten bucks,” I mutter, taking
the keys, and then I get up and shuffle toward the door,
dragging Rowan by her pajama collar. “Come on, you
little weasel,” I say. “Girls quarters. Immediately.”
    Mom and Dad are still in the restaurant. Ro and I go
into our room and close the door. Rowan pulls her terry
cloth robe from the closet, rolls it up, and presses it against
the crack under the door as a sound barrier. I stand at the
closet, take off my clothes, and put on some booty shorts and
my “Peace, Love, Books” shirt, which I got from this