“I sense it will happen very soon,” Lulu continues cryptically.
Well, now she has my undivided attention.
“How do you know?” I place my palms on either side of her shoulders, jostling her. “And how soon?”
She gives a little shrug, eyes going glassy with disinterest. “Not sure. Could be tonight. Or it could be tonight of next year. Hard to tell, really.”
My heart trips inside my chest. Lulu believes my first kiss might happen tonight!
“Did you say tonight? Tonight’s the festival.” I release her shoulders. “Could it happen then? With Joseph Yang?”
“Maybe—but a warning before my mysterious departure: Remember my earlier predictions. They may help you figure things out.” She takes one step back. “And now I must depart.”
With a sudden whirl on her heel, she spins, a cloud of purple smoke unfurling around her, and disappears.
I cough. Blink. Leave it to Lulu to make a mysterious exit.
What was she talking about? Those earlier predictions. Huh. That must have been when she drew my tarot cards in the bathroom.
But—gosh, whatwerethose predictions? Something about how someone likes me, and the second one was—what? Stay away from the new kid? What was her last one, then?
Her voice suddenly pops into my head.You’re gonna die.
My eyes widen. No, hold on. That was the wrong prediction.
Dang it! I should have written them down.
Wait a second, do I even believe anything she says about this kind of stuff? How much can I rely on her vision, really? What am Ithinking? I don’t need her magical prediction to tell me when I should kiss someone.
But if tonight happens to be the big night, I won’t be upset.
That’s it! I’ll take my destiny in my own hands. Romanticizing my life, here I come!
Thanks, Bon Bon. This is a great motivator for me to make a real change in my love life.
Starting tonight.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Patrick
“What happened to your arm?” Sara’s dad asks as he widens the door to let me inside. “Get into a gang fight?”
Okay, maybe coming to Sara’s straight from my hospital visit wasn’t the best idea—especially with my arm in a noticeable sling—but I hate where our conversation left off. Also? I don’t like picturing her walking to the festival alone. I mean, I know Joe and Oliver can walk over with her, but still. She didn’t explicitly say that was the plan, so why should I assume?
Her dad raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer. He’s always been a bit intimidating with his thick moustache and stern stare.
“Uh—” I flounder. “Sure?”
“Patrick?”
Sara pokes her head out of her room and—wow. She’s done her makeup differently, in a way that makes her round amber eyes pop, and there’s a warm shimmer dusting her cheeks. It’s not too much, but I can’t help but blink at her in awe. She looks great.
She glides down the hall until she’s next to her dad. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m coming to the festival with you, what do you think?”
As I try to step into her apartment, her dad blocks my path. “Hold on, young man. Tell me more about this gang fight.”
