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asleep.
    â€œIt’s scary, though,” Melissa said.
    â€œThey’re telling people not to panic.”
    Melissa looked down at Callum and rolled her eyes. “Of course that’s what they tell you!”
    The rush of kids finally stopped. There were just a few people still queuing for lunch, and now Melissa was the only person on the stairs. Except for that idiot Ed Bolton, crouched behind the railing at the top …
    Callum looked up. From where he was standing, his view of the landing was obscured. What made him think Ed was there?
    The tingling in his hands was worse now, real pins and needles, and suddenly he could see Ed quite clearly, as if he were standing right next to him. The older boy was crouched behind the railing at the top of the stairs, with a squeezy dispenser of ketchup from the cafeteria. He was dripping ketchup in a steady stream over the railing, waiting for Melissa to walk beneath it.
    Callum looked back at Melissa, but she was no longer standing on the stairs. She was stepping towards him … Stepping into a puddle of ketchup on one of the stairs. Slipping … Her foot sliding out from under her … Falling … Her head cracking against a concrete stair … Sliding … Until her body lay at the bottom of the stairwell in a limp tangle of silk, her head twisted at an unnatural angle, her eyes glassy and dead … And a dark pool of blood spreading out from her shattered skull …
    Then, as quickly as it had come, the tingling in his hands was gone.
    Callum blinked, and there was Melissa, perfectly upright and unhurt, coming down the stairs. He shook his head. What he had seen hadn’t been real. It couldn’t have been.
    But the red puddle at Melissa’s feet was .
    She was stepping towards it.
    It was ketchup.
    A blob of sauce hit Melissa on the cheek and she looked up, frowning, one foot hovering over the treacherous bottom step where the slippery pool waited.
    Callum didn’t hesitate. Leaping forwards, he grabbed Melissa by the arm and yanked her towards him so that she fell forwards instead of backwards.
    Melissa fell hard and took Callum down with her. They both collapsed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs in the sloppy mess of spilled ketchup. One of the boys in the lunch line gave a whoop of delight.
    â€œRoper and Scott! Woo-hoo!”
    A couple of other boys laughed as Melissa untangled herself from Callum and wiped ketchup from her face, blinking and confused.
    But she was alive. Callum closed his eyes. For a split second he saw the vision again, the same vision—Melissa lying on the stairs with her skull split wide open. When he opened his eyes, the scene vanished.
    Callum’s head reeled. But it wasn’t just the thought of what had almost taken place that sent his heart racing; it was what he had done.
    He had seen it coming.
    He had stopped it from happening.

Chapter Six
    â€œWhat the devil is going on here?”
    It was Mr. Gower, the deputy headmaster, his shining bald head red with outrage.
    Melissa gave a wail as she realized she was covered with ketchup. She looked up to see where the drips were coming from and pointed. “Someone’s pouring ketchup down the stairs!”
    â€œIt’s Ed Bolton,” Callum burst out before the bully had a chance to flee the scene. No one could see him from down here, but Callum was so certain it was Ed that he didn’t even think about the consequences of naming names.
    â€œBolton!” roared the deputy head. “Get down here!”
    Ed came skulking down the stairs. He gave Melissa a smirking, disdainful glance as he carefully skirted the mess at the bottom of the steps, and shot Callum a meaningful look of warning. Finally, he stood scowling before Mr. Gower.
    â€œThis isn’t a circus,” Mr. Gower snapped over his shoulder at the gathering bunch of onlookers. “Get to your class. Get to lunch. Get out of here. Not you, Scott, you seem to know