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determined glint in her eye. “Right now, we have more urgent things to deal with—starting with how we’re going to get our stuff back.”

4
CASSIE
    FRIDAYS WERE ALWAYS rough. The weekend was right there, so close you could practically taste it, but our teachers expected us to sit through hours and hours of superboring classes before we could escape. Wretched!
    This particular Friday was more awful than usual. I couldn’t focus in my first two classes. All I could think about was that mysterious package—and the way Mom had gone nuts about it.
    The worst part? She was still refusing to tell uswhy. It was like our dad all over again. For years, she’d put off our questions by saying she’d tell us someday. But “someday” hadn’t come yet, and she was still keeping mum.
    Now here we were, with our first hint in forever about that side of the family. And once again, Mom was stonewalling us. Talk about unfair! I mean, she’d always been strict, running our household like some kind of military camp, at least in some ways. When she said jump, Cait and I were supposed to jump. No questions asked. Not even, “How high?”
    But that had never seemed like a big deal. Because I’d always trusted her before. Always been sure she had our best interests at heart, even if she sometimes had a funny way of showing it.
    Now? I wasn’t so sure. Was it possible she’d known all along that Cait and I would end up with these freaky visions? Was it possible she knew—and hadn’t even bothered to warn us? That she’d just sat back, letting us think we were going psycho, when all along she could have helped us understand?
    Those sorts of questions kept swirling around inmy head all morning. Things weren’t any better by the time I headed to the library for study hall.
    Megan fell into step beside me. “Want to look at magazines, or do you have to finish the social studies homework?” she asked as we pushed through the library’s glass doors. “Abs and Ems are frantic because they both forgot that geography worksheet is due today.”
    â€œHuh?” I blinked at her.
    â€œMagazines,” Megan said again, “or homework. What’s it going to be?”
    â€œUm, magazines,” I said, trying to sound normal. “I’m caught up in social studies.”
    I’d done all my homework while waiting up for Mom to get home from work the night before. When she came in, she muttered a quick “It’s late; get to bed” in my direction before heading down the hall.
    This morning? No better. She’d puttered around in her bedroom “getting ready” until we’d left for school. I’d tried to talk Caitlyn into busting in there with me and confronting her, but as usual, my sister didn’t want to make waves. So instead we’d sat inthe kitchen, just the two of us, eating our cereal and wondering what exactly to do about the situation.
    At least that was what I was wondering. Cait? Who knew?
    Soon Megan and I were ensconced at a little round table in the corner, the latest issues of Vogue , Seventeen , and various other fashion mags spread out in front of us. Well, the latest issues available in the sleepy little Aura Middle School library, anyway. Which meant most of them were about six months old.
    Normally that would have annoyed me. Today? I barely noticed. I sat there flipping past pictures of models and makeup and who knew what else, still focused on my problems.
    After a while, I became vaguely aware that Megan was talking to me. Mostly because she started poking me in the arm. Hard.
    â€œOw.” I pushed her hand away. “What?”
    â€œHave you heard a single word I’ve said in the past ten minutes?” she demanded, looking peeved.
    I bit back a sarcastic response. “Sorry,” I saidinstead. “Guess I’m a little distracted today.”
    â€œOh.” Her expression