Tunnel Vision Read Online Free

her.
    “Okay,” I announced, palms out. “But this is a seeecret. Okay?”
    Rachel leaned over, poked me in the shoulder. “Yes!”
    I smiled at her, lopsided. Damn, girl.
    “You’ve got to bring me something that belongs … belongs…” I frowned. I couldn’t think of how to put the words together so they made sense. “Belongs to someone who’s far away.” I tried to focus on Caitlyn. “Do you have anything like that?”
    She thought hard for a minute, her forehead crinkling again, then flipped her hair back. “Yes.” She held up one finger. “Hang on.”
    We waited while she disappeared upstairs. And drank more, of course. It seemed like she was gone a long time, almost long enough for me to decide maybe I shouldn’t do it after all. But not quite.
    She almost tripped coming down the stairs. “Here.” She thrust a small object into my hand. It was a tiny velvet box, like the kind they always show in movies when the guy is going to propose. “It belongs to—”
    “No, don’t tell me anything.” I grinned. I was sharing it, finally, with my friends. It didn’t have to be such a secret. It was just fun. A relief. What was I so worried about?
    I cradled the box in my hands, closed my eyes, and let it come.
    It sobered me instantly. First I got the warmth, the sense of energy that tells me it’s happening. It’s like the light from a glow stick, a shimmer that expands around the object that only I can see. Then the light, the warmth, makes its way through my fingertips, buzzing under my skin. Then come the images. Like watching a movie in my head.
    A girl … no, young woman. Long black hair, tiny glasses, skinny. Clearly Caitlyn’s sister. I feel her location, closer and closer, like zooming in on a labeled map in Google: Hanover, New Hampshire. Dartmouth College. Hitchcock Hall, Room 220. And she is seeing … oh. Some guy’s lips, in a dark room with curtains drawn.… “I love you,” he said. “C’mon.” She is feeling pretty warm herself as she leans in, slides her hand down his pants …
    I pulled out of it, blinking, drunk again. Seven pairs of eyes were staring at me.
    When I tunnel to someone, I can do it silently or say it out loud. If I say it, there’s no filter—I say what I see, hear, feel. What that person is experiencing at that moment in time, wherever they are.
    Everyone looked freaked out. Even Chris. Even Rachel.
    “Dude,” Jeff said, swaying. “That was creepy.”
    I tried to laugh. “Let’s see you do that! Everybody drinks!”
    Everybody sipped, silent.
    “But that was true, ” Caitlyn said, thoughtful, tapping her fingers against her red plastic cup. “That was Cammie and Adam … it was totally true. Do another one.” She gestured around the circle. “Come on, somebody else has to have something.”
    They all looked at each other.
    “I have one,” Rachel said, soft. “Just a minute.” She got up and went to the corner, where all the coats and purses were piled on a chair, and dug into a brown purse.
    When she came back, she slipped something into my hand. It was a piece of paper, folded in half. A letter. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth, the tingle, even faster than before.
    A man, early fifties. He is big, barrel chested, with short, stumpy legs and heavy eyebrows. He is wearing purple-flowered swim trunks. His skin is a deep red, going into tan. Location: Oahu, Hawaii. Waimea Bay Beach Park. He is waxing a surfboard. He glances at the sun. Another hour at least. The waves are perfect right now—he has to get back out there. That’s all that matters, the sun and the waves. He’d been so right to leave it all—them all—and come here. He is exactly where he wants to be, finally. Alone. At peace.
    When I opened my eyes Rachel had tears streaking down her cheeks. She sniffed, loud, almost a hiccup. “That’s my dad. He left six months ago … I thought … he might come back…” She got up, snatched the letter, and ran to the