Two Halves Series by Marta Szemik Page B

shoulders.
    “You fainted,” said Ms. Wimsley. “And you gave us quite a scare.”
    “Way to go, weirdo.” Chris pushed through the crowd toward me. “Half the forest is gone because of your scream. We won’t get to see any animals, man.” He faked a disappointed moan.
    Mira and Xander assumed a protective stance. Their shoulders looked broader, and I thought I’d heard a snarl.
    I sat up to see Xander’s profile as he stared at Chris from under his brows. “Shut up!” he growled with fury, his voice deepening to roar. He behaved like a creature himself.
    Did anyone notice his incisor teeth gleaming just below his lips, even in the darkness? I could have sworn he’d grown a few inches, but perhaps it was the shadows and the flickering flames of the fire.
    “Don’t worry about him,” Xander said. “If half the animals are gone, how come you’re still here?” His attention returned to me, but his words were clearly meant for Chris. “Go to your tent and leave her be.”
    It wasn’t a request, but an order; one no one would dare to defy.
    Chris took a step back, spitting to the side, but fear and hatred painted his face.
    “It’s getting late. It’s time to go to your tents,” Ms. Wimsley interjected with forced authority. “Sarah, have some water. You must have fainted from all the excitement and dehydration.” I guessed it was the best diagnosis she could think of under the pressure of teenage glares. She clapped her hands. “Chop, chop, kids. We have a busy day tomorrow. Everyone get ready for bed, and give her some breathing room.” She turned to Mira. “Keep an eye out for Sarah overnight, will you? Make sure she gets plenty of fluids.”
    My throat tingled at that. I wished for fluids, but not the kind Ms. Wimsley had in mind.
    The students’ protests of “aww” and “no” echoed through the clearing to be muffled in the dark forest. We all crawled into our tents for the night. Xander took the right side, Mira chose the middle, and I took the left. We hung a glowing light stick from one of the ceiling supports, having no intention of sleeping.
    “What happened to you?” Mira asked when we were settled.
    I rolled on my side to face her. “I . . . I think I fainted,” I fibbed, stalling. The memory of glowing orange eyes disturbed me enough to send chills down my back. Would the siblings think I was crazy if I told them what I’d seen? Would they dismiss my vision because I hit my head on the rock—the way I hoped they would?
    The feeling of a dream being real was not new to me; I’d had them too often, and dreams this intense always became real—they foretold my future. Knowing what would happen wasn’t so bad, but understanding a dream; that was another story. But this wasn’t a dream. I fainted. Yet, the feeling of my vision coming true was identical to when I dreamt.
    “Are you sure? Your eyes rolled back when you were out. Were you trying to see something?” Though she was obviously striving to sound casual, the muscles around her jaw and brow tightened.
    “Well... I-I thought I saw you and Xander... But way in the future... With me,” I stammered. I didn’t know how much of my strange vision I should share.
    Mira and Xander looked at each other, nodding imperceptibly. Xander couldn’t hide his bright teeth, even in the dark, as his mouth curved into a wide grin. He slid into his sleeping bag. “It was only a small spider. You could have squashed it.”
    “It was a tarantula! I don’t care how small it was, it creeped me out.” My heartbeat picked up again at the memory. I rolled onto my back.
    Mira smacked the back of her brother’s head, hard enough that I heard the whack. He squirmed but didn’t say anything. The intensity of the blow should have knocked him flying, but it didn’t. She readjusted the thick band leather straps on her left wrist. Xander always wore an identical one.
    “Calm down, Sarah. We know how afraid you are of insects,” Mira said, still