Page 69 of Death Card

I kneel on the carpet and pull every single piece out, laying them out on the floor in a semicircle around me. Nothing feels right until I find a white ankle-length dress with a skirt made of ruffled tulle. I cross the room to my full-length mirror and hold it up in front of my body.

As I stare at my reflection, I can almost imagine that it’s really Mom staring back at me. She may not be here physically, but she’s always with me, in the slope of my nose and the color of my eyes. I’ve always envied her for the stories of her confident power. But maybe I could hold my own against her.

Like a plain white canvas, this dress will be my blank slate. This is the beginning of a new chapter in my story. Today, I am reborn.

As soon aswe step into the gymnasium at the community center, a chorus of people erupts in shouts of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The room is decorated in balloons and streamers, and there’s a long table filled with gifts and some circular tablesscattered around the room with centerpieces and place mats. Uncle Larry mans a DJ booth in the corner, playing a mash-up of bounce music and old-school hip-hop. He obviously doesn’t care to play any music released after 2000.

I turn to Gramps and pull him into a hug. “What a surprise!” I shout into his ear over the eardrum-busting music. He doesn’t need to know that Orion and I saw this coming from a mile away.

“Anything for you, baby girl.” He grabs Orion and squeezes both of us tight. “Y’all are the light of my life. The day you were born was one of my best days.”

I blink back tears, determined not to cry in front of all these people. “We love you, Gramps,” I say. “Thank you for everything.”

“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Orion adds, a rare display of emotion from him.

Gramps holds his gaze for a long moment. They’ve had their ups and downs, but family is more important than anything.

“Go on,” Gramps says, finally breaking eye contact. “Go have fun.”

Orion doesn’t need to be told twice. He makes a beeline for Malik, who’s seated at a table with Aunt Lorraine and his mom. I take half a step toward the gift table when Aunt Roberta touches my elbow.

“Happy birthday, baby!” She plants a kiss on my cheek, leaving behind the imprint of her bright red lipstick, I’m sure. “I want to give you this myself.”

She hands me a small pink gift bag filled with white paper. I reach past it and grasp a plastic-wrapped Moleskine notebook. It’s personalized with my initials embossed in the bottom corner.

“Auntie,” I begin, but she interrupts me, rushing forward to explain.

“My mother kept very detailed journals during the course of her life. There are boxes and boxes filled with her writings, from the time she was a little girl until the day she died.” Aunt Roberta’s eyes shift down to the notebook in my hands. “Life flies by in the blink of an eye. The only way we can slow down the passage of time is to write it down. That way, you can always look back and see how far you’ve come.”

I never told my aunt that I’d stumbled across one of Grandma Rose’s journals. I think of her neat script lining every page, and I imagine filling this journal with my own inner thoughts.

“Thank you,” I say. “But I don’t even think I have enough time to fill half these pages.” I’m going to die in a week unless, by some miracle, I find a way to change the outcome of my vision.

Aunt Roberta squeezes my hand. “You’ve got a future as bright as a supernova, baby girl. You’re going to survive, and you’ll fill up every single last page.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her. The scent of her perfume transports me back in time to a moment when I embraced another woman I love. Gran loved the scent of lavender too. It was a trait shared by the sisters who’d grown up sharing everything.

When Aunt Roberta releases me, I excuse myself and retreat from the gym in search of the bathroom. My eyes are misty with tears when I push through the door. Even through my hazy vision, I see Lizzie’s face clear as day.

We stare at each other for a long moment before she sinks into my open arms. We cling together as we sob. She cries forChris and all the possibilities that died with him. I cry for Gran, who will never see how much I’ve grown. Once we’ve sobbed enough to fill a bathtub with our tears, we stand at the sink, dabbing at our makeup with scratchy paper towels. Thick streaks of clumpy mascara run down Lizzie’s cheeks as she scrubs it off.

“I’m sorry to kill the mood. This is your big day. I should be happy,” she says, peering at me in the mirror.

“No, you have a right to your feelings. You lost someone you cared about. That pain doesn’t go away overnight.”

“You’re right.” She drops the mascara-stained paper towel into the garbage and grasps the edge of the sink. “I don’t know whether to be sad that he’s gone or afraid that I’ll be next.”

“It’s okay to be feel a little bit of both.” I reach for her hand and squeeze. “Gramps isn’t going to let this go.”

“I know.” She lowers her voice. “The Council’s been reaching out to adults in the coven. My parents got a phone call. They were asked whether they’d be willing to participate in an attack.”

My blood runs cold. Gramps deliberately left me out of that discussion. I wonder what else the coven has been doing behind my back.

For all Gramps’s talk about handing me the baton and taking a step back, it seems that he’s not quite ready to give up control.

“That’s—”

The door to the bathroom swings open violently, slamming into the doorstop with a loud bang. Orion stands in the doorway, panting with wild eyes. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Get your ass back to the gym!”