Fireworks exploded over Elysium Fields Senior Living and Nate almost dropped the bag of empanadas as he blundered out of his car. He squelched his apprehension. He had to reach Abuela before she lost herself in memory.
On recent visits, Abuela had been lucid, and he’d told Alexis about their picnic traditions. Abuela would demolish them in Rummy.
The most terrifying day of my life was humid and hot—the type of weather that either makes people love summer or wish for winter. I stood in front of Rimlain Canyons, casually scanning the uneven cliff walls with Mr. Krinkleton, a librarian and fellow adventurer. Rumor had it there were riches to be found here, yet many who went searching for them never returned.
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“If we said wedding vows, do you think we’d say ‘‘til death do us part,’ or ‘‘til death bring us together’?” I raised my gray, ghostly hand to view it in the moonlight.
“I don’t know, Eliza, but d’ya think you can ask this question again after we stop two raging yōkai from…
I stared out at the cold gray afternoon. Some summer holiday this was turning out to be. Spending the whole of June on a road trip through the French countryside had sounded idyllic when my parents suggested it. I’d expected to be frolicking in Alpine meadows with wildflowers in my hair like Heidi and swimming in gorgeous blue mountain lakes.
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Andy slumped in his chair. He rubbed tired eyes and focused on the calendar hanging beside his desk. A bright red circle highlighted June 15, his looming deadline. Nine days left to either finish his thirty-page thesis or flunk the post-graduate program. No paper, no grade. No grade, no graduation. No graduation, no degree.
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When people warned us about the apocalypse, they never mentioned injuries. And I’m not talking about a zombie bite or breaking your legs or having a loose street sign fall and impale you while you’re trying to fish a Snickers bar out from the bottom of a drain… rest in peace, Donny.
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Superheroes are messy. You never hear about that in newspapers or online. It sure never comes up when they’re getting a medal from the president or having a school named after them. But man, saving the world is sloppy.
“Petey, you still ain’t done cleaning up that soot?” Randy called from behind me.
It’s quite odd, realizing you’re dead.
Strangely, I didn’t know immediately. My epiphany happened last Derby, when I kissed my now-boyfriend, Reynolds, for the first time. He was a stranger then, but I realized when our lips met he had more substance. He was tangible; I was vaporous fluff.
And Eliza Booker is not vaporous or fluffy.
Somewhere on the edge of town, just where civilization meets wilderness, an unassuming building stands off the side of the road surrounded by the smallest of gardens. It seems to be in its own world, apart from everything and everyone else, so most people leave it alone, driving by without a second glance.
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Most high school principals looked forward to graduation night, but not Edwin. It was the one night of the year that he couldn’t ignore his psychic ability—he dared not call it a gift.
As he handed diplomas to the graduates, he would see flashes of their future, snapshots of what was to come.
“Remember when we took that egg?” Granpapa leaned his head against the back of the chair, eyes closed in a grimace. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
Jani swallowed the ache in her throat. “That was some adventure.
Every spring, just as the raspberries began to redden, Grandpapa’s mind would slip into these fanciful waking dreams.
“April showers bring May flowers.” That’s what my grandma always said when I ran to hide under the table as thunder cracked the sky.
She claimed our family were the shepherds of this process, that the lightning couldn’t reach the plants without our help. Lightning Petal Farmers, everyone else called us.
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