Seven Tears into the Sea Read Online Free

embarrassing, not scary. So why, though it had to be eighty degrees, was I rubbing goose-flesh from my arms?
    Nana’s sigh made me look back. She was gazing after Dad.
    â€œAs old as I am,” she said, when she caught me watching. “I still haven’t got used to the idea that he’s mostly your father now, instead of my son.”
    It was an incredibly sad thing to say.
    For a minute I didn’t know how to react. Then I decided it was a reminder of how quickly time passed. It had been years since I spent time with Nana, and all because I was afraid of gossip.
    I darted back up the steps and gave Nana a quick kiss on the cheek.
    â€œThe minute I get rid of them, I’ll be back,” I promised. “Will you save me a couple scones?”
    â€œAll you want, Gwennie,” Nana promised. “And a private moment”—she raised one eyebrow—“after things settle down?”
    Oh no. I knew what was coming.
    I also knew I couldn’t get out of it.
    I nodded, waved, and sprinted toward the VW. Mandi and Jill were settled in the car, and I was glad their impatience had kept them from hearing Nana’s invitation.
    I started the car and revved the engine.
    A sea gull cried and swooped so low that all three of us ducked, then laughed.
    Driving like a pro, I pulled out of the driveway, speeding after Dad.
    This is really why I didn’t want to come back.
I could get past the gossip. I’d outgrown the sleepwalking. But what about Nana’s totally goofy predictions?
    I’m a person who can’t take a weather forecast on faith, and Nana expected me to believe she could see my future reflected in an antique copper mirror.
    It’s like carnival fortune-tellers reading crystal balls, and it’s called scrying. It turns up in lots of old stories. In
Snow White,
for instance, when the evil queen says “Mirror, mirror on the wall,” then gets answers from that mirror, she’s scrying.
    Oh my gosh, Mandi had me doing it, too.
    Snow White is a fairy tale, I reminded myself. I live in this century, in the real world. I don’t believe in scrying.
    I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and watched the road.
    Dad turned hard right, down the dirt road to Cook’s Cottage, and I followed.
    â€œWe are gonna have such awesome tans by September,” Mandi squealed. She thrust her arms toward the sky, and I knew how she felt.
    Ahead, waves rumbled. Sea wind rushed into my face. I smelled salt, kelp, and sunbaked tar paper on the cottage roof. Summer was making lots of promises.
    â€œI propose a party at my apartment, the night before school starts,” Jill said. “To tell our summer stories.”
    â€œAnd compare tan lines!” Mandi said. She craned her neck and peeled down one side of her blouse to inspect her starting point.
    â€œAnd don’t forget our promise,” I reminded them.
    â€œSure, it will be easy for you to try something new every day,” Mandi said, pretending to pout.
    â€œI’m sure the twins will give you a few thrills and surprises,” I answered, but I was actually thinking it might be fun to let Nana read my future. She hadn’t done it since we left Mirage Beach.
    That last day as Mom and I waited for Dad to return with the U-Haul trailer that would carry everything we owned to Valencia, Nana had plucked the copper mirror out of its pouch and insisted on doing a reading.
    Mom had resisted. Before she became a health writer at the
Valencia View
newspaper, Mom was a nurse. She has a scientific brain, so Nana’s scrying made Mom crazy.
    â€œNow, now,” Nana had soothed Mom as she fidgeted at Nana’s kitchen window, mumbling that Dad had better get back and break up this séance, “this will be a true reading. I can feel it in my bones.”
    The gist of the reading was that I’d return to Mirage Beach. That was a pretty safe call, since we wouldn’t desert Nana, and she knew