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does but you.”

    She assesses the Reaper’s hand. “And what’s with the hourglass?”

    My shoulders rise and fall as I shrug. “It’s one of the symbols of the Reaper, like, ‘your time is in my hands.’”

    She sketches the hourglass with her finger. “Well, your brother could have at least put sand in it then, so it wasn’t like your time had expired.”

    “I’m sure he wasn’t thinking that far into it,” I assure her. “Besides, he only did it to impress you. He wanted to show you that you two share an artistic side.”

    She chews on her bottom lip. “You know I would never date him, right? I’ve had one too many manic depressives in my life.” She pulls a guilty face. “Sorry, Em. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

    “It’s okay. I know my brother has problems. And I know you’ve been through too much to want to deal with it.” I pause. “How’s your mom doing?”

    She shrugs, staring at the drawing. “Fine, I guess. I haven’t gone to visit her in a while.”

    Raven’s mom is in a drug treatment facility. She suffers from depression and self-medicates. Her illness has been going on for years. A couple of months ago, Raven came home from work and found her mom on the living room floor with a lit cigarette in her hand. She wasn’t breathing and barely registered a pulse. Raven called an ambulance and the paramedics resuscitated her. Raven chewed me out for not telling her it was coming and I realized that day that there were many negatives to my gift. But I didn’t tell Raven her mom was going to die, because I knew she wasn’t going to die that day. I refuse to tell Raven when anyone in her family will die—including herself—because no one needs that burden on their shoulders.

    Raven was mad at me for two weeks and wouldn’t talk to me at all. It was the loneliest two weeks of my life. Raven is my one and only friend and it’s pretty much been that way forever. When I get old, I’ll probably end up a spinster with ten cats and maybe a bird. Raven will pay me visits every so often with her children and make sure I stay sane.

    “What is that?” She stands on her tiptoes, leaning in my face, and with her pink fingernail, she chips away a flake of mud off my cheek. “Why do you have dirt on your face?” She turns my hand over and examines my palm. “And your fingers are rubbed raw.”

    I pull my hand away. “Last night, while I was in the cemetery—”

    “I thought you stopped going there so much,” she interrupts with disapproval written all over her face. Raven has never understood my need to be alone—my need for the quiet.

    I grab a purple and black T-shirt with torn sides and a pair of black jeans out of the dresser. “I haven’t been sleeping very well and it’s relaxing, being there.”

    She twists a strand of her shoulder-length, bubblegum pink hair around her finger. “I don’t understand you sometimes. I told you to come to my house whenever you want. You don’t need to go hang out in a graveyard—it’s creepy.”

    I don’t have the heart to tell her that her house is one of the worst places, chock full of death, even after her mother went away. Her brother, Todd, will have an early death from lung cancer. He smokes two packs of cigarettes a day and he’s been smoking since he was thirteen.

    “The cops busted me,” I admit, knowing she’ll find it humorous.

    Her lips quirk. “Oh yeah, did you run?”

    I nodded, and keep my tone playful. “Yup. Really, really fast.”

    Her smile broadens. “Did they chase you?”

    I nod again. “I’m pretty sure he stumbled and landed on his face, too,” I exaggerate, knowing she’ll love it—Raven’s all about the drama.

    A laugh sputters from her lips. “Okay, I’m kind of jealous. I wish I could have been there to see it.”

    “It was pretty funny,” I admit. “Except for…”

    “Except for what?” she presses. “Come on, Em, tell me please. Don’t do your