Frankie lay on her bedspread with her earbuds in. It was late and the glow of hallway light was still visible under the door. Her parents, or maybe just her mom, was still up. She let her mind wander to the conversation she’d overheard her parents having with her Grandma Rose. It was an odd one. About dreams and blackouts and living a life not your own.

She had not told her mother about the dream she’d had a week ago. It was way beyond her. And maybe it was just that – a dream. But she thought not. The way she felt through her eyes and hands. Tasting the burn of liquor. The locket.

It lay in her cupped palm now, cool against her skin. It was not there before. Was it? No. She’d been tapping away on her phone texting her “friend” air quotes galore, Jack. Jack the handsome. Jack the awesome. Jack the one she was hoping to go to the Wolf Alice concert with.

And then she’d lay back and let the music wash over her. She was not really musically inclined. But she loved music. No, her hobby was drawing. Sketching. Abstract stuff.

Her hand now held the locket, the clasp rough on her palm. Had she taken it from her mother’s room? She did not remember doing so. Had Viv taken it and left it there on her bed? Probably. Her little sister was a nuisance at times. A very adorable bossy nuisance.

She opened the locket and stared down at the faces. In the dim light of her phone the eyes were black and silver. She felt an odd shudder. Ping. Jack.

Next Chapter: Lyllian, August 2017, New York