Peeking around the doorjamb, I said, “How did you know that?”
She held up the picture.
“Oh, right.” I went back to changing. “And I can do it over and over.”
“The same picture?”
“The same picture.”
She hopped up and came into the bathroom to sit on the closed toilet. “Do you know what this means?”
she asked, her voice filled with fascination.
“Of course.” Then I thought about it. “Well, okay, no. Not really.”
After blinking in thought a few times, she said, “Yeah, me neither.”
“They had a secret.” I pulled my top over my head, then continued. “My parents.”
“And you learned this by touching that picture?”
“Yes. They were talking about it. About how someone was alive but they couldn’t tell me who.” I stopped and gazed at her point-blank. “I think my paternal grandfather is alive.”
Brooke’s jaw dropped open. “I thought he was dead.”
“So did I,” I said. “That’s what they told me, but they were talking about my chin and how it looked like my dad’s father’s and then—”
“I love this place.” Glitch walked in, his mouth clearly full.
Brooklyn stepped out of the bathroom. “Glitch, you need to knock.”
“Hurry, close the door,” I said, rushing past him to do that very thing.
He had a slice of pizza in each hand. “Why? What’s going on?”
Brooklyn glanced at me, her eyes pleading. “Can I tell him? Please? I’ll do your algebra homework.”
With a snort, I said, “I would let you kick him in the face for a free homework night. Deal.”
“In the face?” he asked, his words muffled.
“Lor has a new talent,” Brooke said.
He swallowed hard, then eyed me. “Does it involve pole dancing?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “Pay attention. Oh, my gosh, that smells so good.”
“Fine,” I said. “Go get a piece. We’ll wait.”
“No way.” She crossed her arms and refused to budge. “You’ll tell him.”
“I won’t tell him.”
“Yes, you will. I’ll just take one of his.”
“Absolutely not,” he said, backing away as though facing a firing squad.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Brooke answered it, and Cameron was standing on the other side.
“Hey,” Brooklyn said, holding the door close to let him know he was not welcome at that moment in time. “So, are you still checking the perimeter?”
He narrowed his eyes and looked past her. “I guess. Just checking in. Is everything okay?”
“Wonderful.”
When she continued to stare at him, smiling for effect, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll be outside. Close those blinds.”
“You got it.” She shut the door, rushed over to close the blinds, then hurried back to the door before turning back to me with an accusing scowl on her face. Like I would risk getting my homework done for free.
“What?” Glitch asked.
“Nothing. Keep her busy until I come back. And don’t let her say anything. Anything! ”
“I cannot believe you don’t trust me,” I said, but she was gone. So I called out to her. “Bring me a piece!”
Glitch sat at my desk, then yelled, “And bring me an orange soda!”
“Me too!”
I scooted onto the edge of my bed. “It’s like having room service.”
“So, you gonna tell me or what?”
I looked over at Glitch. He was holding a slice of pizza in one hand and checking his e-mail on my computer with the other.
“Brooke would kill me.”
He tossed an evil smirk over his shoulder.
Before I could say anything, Brooklyn burst through the door, a pile of pizza in one hand and two orange sodas balanced in the other. “Did she say anything?” she asked.
“My god, that was fast.”
Glitch’s mouth formed a straight line of disappointment. “No, she didn’t.”
“Perfect.” She handed me a slice and sat down to take a bite. After putting her pizza back onto her plate and wiping her hands on her napkin, she focused all her might on Boy Wonder.
“Okay, Glitch, pay attention.”
He turned from the computer and took another bite. “’Kay.”
Brooke grinned in anticipation and said, “Lor can go into pictures.”
He conjured a hesitant smile. “That’s great, Lor. I didn’t even know you wanted to act.”
“What? No, not those kinds of pictures.” She waved at him, as though erasing his words. “Like, pictures. You know, photos.”
“So you want to be a photographer?” he asked after taking a sip of soda.
With all the flair and drama of a silent screen actress, Brooke plastered her hands over her eyes and threw herself across her bed.
“A model?” he tried. “Aren’t you kind of short?”
“For the love of pepperoni, make him shut up.”
I laughed at her antics. “Brooke, you have to admit, it sounds a little far-fetched. You’re going to have to explain,” I said before taking a bite.
“Fine.” She sat up and tried again. “Okay, Lor has the ability to touch a picture and go into it. She can see what was happening when that picture was taken. She can enter the scene, look around, hear what people said.”
“But once the camera flashes,” I added, “I’m thrown out. I can see only the events that led up to that image in the photo.”
Glitch sat staring at us. We let him take it all in. Absorb. “That’s kind of cool,” he said, his voice uncertain.
“Kind of cool?” Brooke asked. “It’s the coolest thing ever. Well, okay, besides Jared being the Angel of Death. That was a tad cooler.”
I glanced at her and we shrugged in agreement.
“No, it is,” he said. “But what does it mean?”
“That’s what we’d like to know,” Brooke said.
“Have you told your grandparents?”
“No, not yet. It’s all still in test phase. As soon as I know more, I’ll go to them.”
“You said you’d go to them tomorrow,” Brooke said, accusing me with her eyes. “You pinkie swore.”
“I will.”
“Lor—”
“Brooke—”
“Can we get back to the picture thing?” Glitch asked, still absorbing. Wet newspaper was more absorbent.
So we spent the next hour explaining everything and going into a couple of pictures to prove I could do it. Everyone was a skeptic. But Brooke brought out some pictures from our grade school days. I went into a couple and recounted what happened in each. I was getting better. I could manipulate my position, could see the environment outside the frame of the picture.
Glitch didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t sure why this was any harder to believe than my having visions or Jared being the Angel of Death, but for some reason, he seemed to be having a difficult time with it.
Then he asked, “What about digital images? You know, like a picture on a phone or a computer?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know. Let’s try it.”
He brought up a picture on his cell phone of him riding his dirt bike in the mountains.
“Who took this?” I asked.
He grinned. “You tell me.”
With a grimace of doubt, I touched the screen and concentrated. And just as before, I drifted forward, into the picture, into the scene, a curtain of pixels parting to let me inside. The shrill sound of his motorcycle as he kicked up an unnecessary amount of dirt hit me like a cannon blast. I covered my ears.
Or at least, I felt like I covered my ears. No one else was around. Before I got cast out of the photo, I stepped to the side to see who was taking the picture, but his phone sat on a log. He’d propped it up and set the timer.
A split second before the picture snapped, I looked past the camera and saw his dad standing in the distance.