"The ambulance is almost here," Michael muttered behind him.
Max took another breath.
Images flashed into his mind, coming so fast, Max could hardly register one before the next appeared.
A stuffed dog with a chewed-off ear. A Mr. Wizard junior chemistry set. A blond little girl holding a baby bird. An onrushing car. Liz at about age five in a pink dress covered with cupcakes. A valentine. The high dive of a large swimming pool. Max's own face.
And he was in. Connected.
He could feel the blood gushing out of Liz's body as if it were his own. Feel her breath in his own lungs. Hear the sound of her heartbeat in his own ears.
First the bullet, Max told himself. He focused his attention on Liz's body. On their body.
Yes. There it was. He could sense the exact position of the bullet. Of the lead. Of the molecules of lead.
Then he nudged the molecules. That's the only way he could describe it. He nudged them, and they broke apart. The bullet dissolving into microscopic particles. Harmless now as they were swept away in Liz's bloodstream.
"The ambulance is pulling up out front," Max heard Michael say.
But he sounded far away. So far…
Max focused on Liz's somatic cells. The cells of her body. Of her stomach. Of her muscles and tendons. Of her skin.
And instead of nudging he squeezed. Squeezed with his mind. Urging the cells closer together. Healing.
Max felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "You've got to disconnect. Now, Max," Michael ordered. "The ambulance crew is coming through the door."
And he was out. Separate again. Alone again. A wave of coldness washed through him, and he shivered.
Max slowly raised his hands and stared down at Liz's stomach. Under the blood her skin was whole and perfect. He released a shaky sigh of relief.
Liz opened her eyes and stared at him. "I… you…"
"I'll explain everything later," Max whispered. "But now I need you to help me."
He grabbed a bottle of ketchup off the counter and smashed it against the floor. He dumped the contents over the blood on Liz's uniform.
"You broke the bottle when you fell," Max told her. "Okay, Liz? You broke the bottle when you fell, that's all."
A man and woman dressed in white jumpsuits hurried behind the counter. "Everyone move aside and give us some room," the woman paramedic instructed.
Max backed away. Did Liz even understand what he'd asked her to do?
Liz struggled to sit up. "I'm okay," she said. Her voice sounded hoarse. "When I heard the gunshot, I jumped. Then I fell. I… I broke this ketchup bottle and spilled ketchup all over myself."
She held up the broken bottle so everyone could see it.
Then Liz looked straight at Max, her dark brown eyes melting with emotion. He felt his breath catch in his chest.
"I'm okay," she repeated.
Liz couldn't stop staring at Max. He gave her a tiny smile, a private smile meant only for her. What did you do to me? she thought. How…
Her brain felt like it was humming, vibrating at a really low frequency. It was hard to think.
The paramedic knelt down in front of Liz, blocking her view of Max. No! Liz thought, struggling to stand up. She needed to keep Max in sight right now. It made her feel… safer.
Lying on the floor, she'd had the feeling of rushing away, being forced away from the cafe, from her father and Maria-from everything and everyone familiar. And somehow Max had brought her back.
"Don't try to move yet." The paramedic grasped Liz firmly by the shoulders.
Liz tried to focus on the story she was supposed to tell. She brushed her fingers across the front of her uniform, then held her hand up so the woman could see it. "It's ketchup, just like I told you. I know it looks like blood, like a lot of blood.…"
And there is blood under the ketchup, a lot of blood, she thought. I was bleeding to death. I was dying. A shiver rippled through Liz. She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn't help. She still felt cold.
"I know it's ketchup-I can smell it. I'm getting the urge for a big plate of fries," the woman joked. She pulled out a tiny flashlight and shone it into Liz's eyes. Then she took Liz's wrist in her hand and checked her pulse.
"Is she okay?" Mr. Ortecho asked. He was blinking superfast, the way he always did when he was about to lose it.
Liz felt a rush of protectiveness for her father. He had been devastated when Rosa overdosed. For days after the funeral he had lain on the sofa covered by a red afghan-even though it was the middle of summer. And no matter how many times Liz had gone into the room, she'd always found him in exactly the same position.
He must be terrified, she thought. I'm the only child he has left. She wished this had happened on his day off.
"I'm fine, Papi," she answered. She heard a tiny tremor in her voice, but she thought she'd done a good job of sounding normal. Except for the fact that she had called her father Papi. She hadn't used that name since she was a little girl.
"I didn't ask you," Papa snapped. "Are you a professional? No. You don't know if you're fine or not."
"I'm the professional, and I say she's fine, too," the woman answered. "I thought she might be in shock. I'd be in shock if someone shot at me. But she's just fine." The woman glanced over her shoulder at her partner. "Guess we should head out."
"Thanks." Liz pushed herself to her feet. Her father wrapped her in a hug so tight, her ribs hurt. "Let's not tell Mama what happened, okay?" she whispered.
"Are you kidding? There's no way your mother's radar would miss this. The second one of us walked in the house, she'd know something was wrong." He gave a choked laugh as he released her.
Liz scanned the cafe, searching for Max. She had to talk to him. She had to find out what he did to her. But he was gone. So was Michael.
Max had sounded so intense when he asked her to lie for him, like it was something really critical. If anyone took a close look at the floor, they would know her ketchup story couldn't be true. The spatters of blood on the tile floor looked bright red and shiny slick-not tomato red and clumpy.
"I-I'd better mop up the ketchup. Someone is going to slip." Liz rushed over to the corner and rolled the big yellow bucket over to the red stains. She drenched the floor with dirty gray mop water.
"I'll do that," her father said. He pulled the mop out of her hands.
"Come on. Let's go to the ladies' room and get you cleaned up," Maria said, slipping her arm through Liz's.
"Good idea." Liz didn't know how much longer she could stand here acting calm and talking about ketchup.
She turned toward her friend. Maria's face was pale. Her peachy pink blush looked way too dark now. It stood out on her cheeks in ugly splotches.
Before Liz could take a step, the front door of the cafe swung open and Sheriff Valenti strode in. The heels of his boots echoed on the tile floor as he made his way up to the counter.
Everyone at Olsen High knew Kyle's father. He did a locker search practically every week. He stopped anyone under eighteen who was driving even one mile over the speed limit. He showed up at practically every party, checking to see if there was any underage drinking going on.
"I got a report that there were shots fired at this address," he told Mr. Ortecho. "Can you tell me what happened?"
He's going to ask a billion questions, Liz thought. What if he doesn't believe the ketchup story? She felt her heartbeat speed up.
"I was in my office. I heard two men yelling, then a shot," Mr. Ortecho answered in a shaky voice. "I ran out and saw my daughter… I saw my daughter lying on the ground, bleeding."
"It was ketchup," Liz said quickly. "The gunshot scared me. I jumped back, then I fell. I broke this ketchup bottle, and it spilled all over me."
Valenti turned toward her. "Is that right?" he asked. He took off his hat, and Liz could see the red band the brim had made across his forehead.
"Uh-huh," Liz answered.